


A Match in the Breeze

by Jesse_Kamokazi



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Adventure, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, I swear, Ilios, Reader-Insert, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, The feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2018-08-14 23:37:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 106,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8033446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jesse_Kamokazi/pseuds/Jesse_Kamokazi
Summary: You're life in Ilios has always been a normal one; it's not like you've got any powers or abilities to make it above average. Why you were dragged into the mess of past civil wars and erratic crimes was beyond you, but you guessed you just couldn't help yourself. That stupid smile of his just got you every time.





	1. Jams and Olives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably add that the time between chapters is going to go up, since I'm going to try to get more content out to you instead of all the description and only a little substance. And I would rather not push myself to write crap, so I'm going to be taking my time to make the best chapters for you all possible <3 If you have any feedback relating to chapter length, etc, I'm still reading all of the comments c: and will also be getting back to answering most of you!

A bag of change swayed heavily in the pocket of your jeans, pulling along the waistline as you struggled forwards up the last set of stairs. You could feel the sweat beginning to bead up on your forehead already, even with the cool breeze brushing your face. Your forehead was furrowed in concentration with the effort it took to keep your left knee from buckling at the strain you were putting on it, despite having only gone a short ways from your home.

Your brother had sent you into town to pick up some supplies; the weekly farmer's market that was put on by the citizens of Ilios, and many other traders, was going on in the town square by the lighthouse. The traders usually got their imports up shore, and had to bring them to Ilios by foot since the roads here weren't wide enough for vehicles, and the cliffs had dangerously narrow paths as well. Once and awhile, you saw a bike or two, or even more rare was a motorcycle, going through, carrying heavy loads, like technology or meat. Sure, Ilios had a port, and it could be used to bring in those heavy items, but the larger ships got better money for their stock in the next down over, rather than Ilios's tiny, peaceful docks.

You certainly new that nobody around here minded that the ships weren't pulling up to the docks. Ilios wasn't a trade city, it was a fishing city. It made for a quiet, family-friendly atmosphere everywhere. You'd never been to the city over, due to your injuries, but your father and brother often came home to tell you that it was loud and there were far too many people. You could only assume it was because of all the ships going off. 

Your foot dragged you up the last step and you felt a relief sag at your shoulders. The sun shined painfully over your already much too hot back, and the beautiful ocean breeze kicked your hair off of your shoulders to try to cool you down. You hadn't really gone too far, and you knew that. You only lived up the hill, but it was a struggle to go down all the steps without losing your footing, and it was awfully difficult to go from that, back up four sets of stairs. 

But you made it, so you could relax now before you had to go back. You stared quietly up at the sky, letting the sounds of the nearby market's humming business, and the distant rushing of the ocean calm you as you watched a few fluffy white clouds lazily drift along. The sun shined over you, now warming your cooling skin. Ilios seemed to always have something to put you at ease, even after exerting yourself; you loved it here, the people here, and all of the food and fresh produce. 

As you realized you stopped wandering, you quickly righted your thought process and snapped back to task. You still had to get to the market and get the week’s supplies before you ran too late and worried your brother or mom. You took another gulp of the salty breeze to calm your strained breathing, and then started forwards once more, a little swifter this time, and a little more uncomfortably. You limped heavily against your left leg, which was plagued with a condition you'd been given back in your first home, where you were born. You didn't think about the incident much nowadays, but once in awhile, especially when your knee hurt on colder days, it came up. 

Your unsteady gait brought you closer to the lighthouse, where stalls and tables came into view, stread out across the courtyard. Some of them were in the shade of the lighthouse's interior, while other were out in the sun, or within the open walls of the gathering building. Most of the things you needed, you knew were they were, so you tried to calm the trembling of your right arm, cursed with the same condition your leg was, by holding it to your chest, before stepping through the first few tables, into the maze of produce. 

Fresh bread, milk, eggs, sweets, and other various food scents were drifting around you, not that milk or eggs had a scent, but there were plenty of them. Butter, however... that had a scent. You took a deep breath of the rich, creamy smell from the churn to your right, who you knew worked with your mother as a baker. She waved, and you nervously lifted a few of your fingers off of your arm to wave back, not wanting to accidentally fidget and knock something over. There were knit washcloths, stone and mineral jewelry, and lots of other luxuries that you couldn't afford to pay for if you shoved over and broke them or dirtied them.

Inside the gathering house, there were a lot of people selling flimsy products, or just people who weren't used to the cold breeze. They had rolls of paper, pamphlets, books, or powders like flour or baking soda. Then there were the people that you usually saw with the bikes or carts under the lighthouse. They sold expensive electronics, heavy machinery parts, and other tech. The lighthouse was the most expensive place to rent out, since it was right next to the auctions. People hoped that while waiting for good auctions to bid on, buyers would look through their things; more of then than not, it happened that way.

The Auctions were usually for high priced technology, and they happened out on the balcony, just under the lighthouse's other edge that looked over the sea. People were probably sitting in chairs and holding their money tight against the wind, either looking for something specific, or just observing and dreaming of owning what was displayed. 

There was no reasons for you to go over there, though you did each week in case you found a leg, one to replace the mess you had, or an arm... 

But today you were running late, so you'd only swing by momentarily, you decided, nodding quietly to yourself as you were reminded that you had only to get ingredients for your mother. Your mom knew how to cook well, so your family had no need for buying precooked meals, jams, or breads. Your mother baked and boiled what was needed, and it was for a lower price, for better tasting foods. So you carefully weaved around the stalls, being wary of your own delicate balance and how easily being nudged could send you into a table of something expensive.

You retrieved the bag of change from your pocket, and gently passed a few coins over for a bag of olives and a vine of grapes, then requesting a bag so you didn't have to struggle with your items. The paper bag was passed to you with a friendly smile, and you thanked them before proceeding. You had a hard enough time going up and down hills without things to carry, so bags were necessary for you. 

You meandered through the market, picking up a bottle of milk, some eggs, and a bag of flour as you stepped into the gathering building, taking a moment to enjoy the cool shade and protection from the breeze. After a couple moments of adjusting all of your items in your bag, and looking up at the clock hanging in the center of the building, you turned and started into the wind again. You supposed you had time to look through the electronics...right? If you were quick? 

You carefully readjusted the bag under your bad arm, and your good arm holding them down as your fingers cramped up. You didn't feel it too bad, but it caused some spasms off and on. It had shattered from the elbow down, and because you couldn't fix it, and your family didn't have money at the time, you had to go the cheap route instead of buying a prosthetic. So if you were going to look through holo-tech and other crazy expensive stuff, you were not going to knock anything over. 

You just didn'tt want to break something on your way through. Your family didn'tt have the funds to be able to fix your mistakes, and you didn'tt want to put them through the struggle of trying to get it. It was often that your brother joked about selling you off to a Junker Trade ship and living in luxury for the rest of their days, his humor was darker than your own; however your mother reassured you and stated chillingly that the Junkers had no such ships and no such gold to pay for such a lovely, priceless young woman as yourself. She was such a sweet woman, often calling you beautiful, priceless, and unique. You couldn'tt ask for a better parent. She hardly ever yelled or said crude things about anyone, let alone you, and yet if you really did break all that expensive equipment, you weren'tt sure what would happen. You'd definitely have to start working harder as a whole. 

You exited the pricey space between the market stalls, feeling nervous that you were so near to all of that stuff. There wasn't anything there that would help you, or that you would want really, so you shuffled out past the auctions, only taking a glance at the sell, before having to double take and look again. It was a beautiful relic, probably found up in the ruins when they were still exploring it, so it would have been pulled out a long time ago.

They were excavating again, but it was to try and uncover more, or so you'd heard. A shady looking man was still bidding on the small thing, and it was about to be sold as well. The price was so igh that nobody here in Ilios would dare spend that much money on such a useless little trinket. It was hardly important at all, just a little odd shaped metal. You could have laughed at the strangeness of a man wanting it that bad, but you kept the thoughts quietly to yourself as you were raised, and turned around to exit the market.

The hustle and bustle of life faded off behind you as you plunged forwards into your own heavy steps, still hefting the bag in your arms, and the remainder of your change clicking in your pocket. Soon enough, you had rounded a few paint chipped corners, and many of the newly-painted blue walls faded into sun-bleached white. The similar decorating of the shops that were usually in Ilios, including Kofi Aromo, fell into personalized window sills, and wildly decorated porches of the residential portion of Ilios. There were beautiful flowers, or even grape vines wrapping up and around windows. There were a lot of pottery tokens for luck or prayer hanging or sitting quietly next to doors, or small paper decorations made by children.

It was really a beautiful day in Ilios.

You reached the hill that lead up to your house, the one you had come down. It was rather steep in places, and where it was too steep it had stairs. Coming down it was one thing, but going up was another. You took a deep breath and started on, almost immediately feeling the ache of your leg and the burning of your hips and lower back shooting through you. Your limp often caused you to have hip issues, and from your misaligned hips, your back ached as well. Most of the time you were constantly in pain, and when you weren't it was tight with strain. All the same, you hurried your pace as your own home came into view. You didn't want to be too late, though you were only a minute or two off you tried to avoid punishment altogether.

You weren't exactly a child anymore, hell you were twenty four years old, but you were still living at home, without a consistent job. Your injuries made ith ard for you to lift, which made delivery hard, and honestly you weren't that good at anything else. You had no real skills you could confidently say that you had. You couldn't draw, you couldn't write, you couldn't cook too well. In other words, you hadn't found your calling. Your mother assured you that you would one day, but until then she would always take care of you and keep you safe; so long as you could get the groceries.

Finally, with your hips aching, you pushed through the door into an airy home, where the windows stood open almost all the time. Your mother was canning strawberries, and was waiting on the olives you'd brought home to can. The grapes were for tomorrow, where she'd make more jam, and save some for salads. You crossed your tiled floor to the dining table where it sat in the middle of the kitchen. The house was small, so it was rather unnecessary for there to be a separate dining room and kitchen.

You lowered your baggage onto the light wood of the table, and began unpacking the items one by one. Your mother carefully joined you, steam dampening her hair as she pulled her mits off, since holding a boiling metal pot of water was obviously hot. She had a bandana pulling her hair from her face, as usual, and a messy ponytail hanging down to her mid-back. She began carefully helping you sort out and put away what needed to be used now, or what needed to be put in the pantry. 

As she finished, she came towards you and gently wrapped her strong arms around you, and kissed the side of your head. "Thank you, beauty," she said gently, in her usual happy tune, before she turned away, and left you to your own as she got back to work.

The rest of your day was spent outside, on the hammock in your tiny front patio, watching as children ran around with kites and playing games; eventually, your eyes grew heavy and your thoughts wandered into a dream, dreams of shady men buying bread and relics being canned in your home. They really never did make any sense, did they? The day turned to night, and your mother came out to put a blanket over you at some point, without waking you. Satin black coated the sky, and you were left to doze.


	2. Smoke Stains

You had expected the bright light behind your eyelids to be coming from the warm, morning sun. It would normally caress you, gently coil it’s rays around your cheeks and radiate over your tan skin with gentle kisses. The warmth you felt was not this gentle, steady push of warmth. It was not the memories of running out of the waves and throwing yourself into the sand to let it tickle your water soaked back. It was not a good morning the day your father came home after the Omnic Crisis. It was not happiness.

  
This warmth was the warmth of mistakes. It was the horrible heat of defeat and loss, and of destruction. This heat sucked at your skin and grew hotter and hotter the more it gnashed its teeth. It roared it’s horrible roar, billowing out it’s sick, putrid breath into your face, choking you with it’s raw, clawing taste. It was the heat that licked and bit at your eyelids and curled the tips of your hair. It wasn’t the sun.

  
A hard blow to the shoulder sent you upright, and you felt the world sway around you. Your hammock gave way to your struggles to stand up, and sent you tumbling out to the ground. There were sirens blaring in your ears, and a familiar, horrible roar in your head. Your brother was standing above you, his eyes wide and mortified, but not looking at you. He held a peachy glow to him, and you followed his bug eyed gaze over your shoulder to the home across the narrow street, spitting fire. There was another loud bang. Another one, like the one in your dream, the one of the door slamming closed to your home. A third crackle and you were to your feet, stumbling awkwardly to stand behind your sibling. 

His fingers were gripped hard around your wrists, keeping you close and protected from the bane of your past happiness. A new happiness had long replaced it, but you didn’t want the same horrible substance to take it away again. 

Crack. 

A board broke as another boom echoed in the house, and you listened, listened to the roaring of the sirens and the fire, and the barking of the strange explosions from within the home. 

The people across from you were a wealthy trade family. The head of the home was the father, a tradesman from the ports up shore, who owned many factories and exported technology like that sold in the square. Most of that belonged to him. He and his wife were rather old, and had managed, luckily, to birth themselves a set of twins this late into their lives. The two were natural leaders, though the first born had a jealousy issue and a temper. The second born had an inquisitive side to him, constantly trying to make friends and mediate between his brother’s fits and what the others wanted. They were a good pair of children, having all the energy in the world as well. They lived well, ate decently, and their home was quite nice. They surely had expensive things inside, if not a safe with their bountiful earnings.  
On the undertone of that crackling and booming that blew out the glass windows, just below the roaring of sirens and the fire that consumed the furniture, was cackling. A high pitched, jittery jingle that tinkled like the broken glass on the ground. Shadows reflected through the flames the closer you looked, and fear of ominous activity began to burn in your chest far more than all the smoke did.

Before you could look further to see if there indeed was someone inside of the house, your brother was pulling you away. You spotted, within the small patio space of the neighbor’s home, a bike. That was uncommon around here; a motorbike, with a sidecar none the less. You were half dragged away, your attention on everything but where your feet were going. Another flicker of a human-shaped shadow passed through a window-space, and more cackling erupted. More booming, more crackles and more fire. 

Before you knew it, you were pulled around a corner, and you turned your attention to your brother, who had the face of a man on a mission, forehead creased and his cheeks pushed up in a grimace. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t just a fire. Nobody thought that hard when it was only a fire. “What’s going on,” you creaked out in a weak voice, feeling your eyes begin to react to the smoke that had dried them. They watered at first, though you began to wonder quietly in your own head, if somewhere inside your body had learned to fear fire, and had instinctively began to cry. 

“I don’t know, y/n,” came the gentle reply, and you noted that your sibling’s tone was rough around the edges as well. Hopefully a medic would step out and check around to make sure everyone was okay. That was all that could be done. Hopefully your neighbors had escaped, injury free.  
Despite the hope and the silent prayer for their safety, the dark thoughts began to enter your head. With whatever was happening, with whoever was in there, they were most definitely not unharmed. Someone was targeting them for their status, they just had to be. Out of all the houses in Ilios, they were picked? That was no coincidence. 

Your brother carried you to safety a few corners down, and set you down next to your mother, who was talking quietly with your father. Your mother was never one to cry, but you could see the tears in her eyes. They knew something you did not. You decided that it was best not to pry, after all, if they were keeping something from you, then they were keeping it from everyone. You weren’t special, right? 

You began to take deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down as you listened to the breeze, the breeze that was poisoned with that horrible smoke and that carried the roar of fire on it. Another deep breath, and you began to calm your shaking lungs and knees. You and your family sat there in silence, and you thought back to the horrible incident that took away your arm and your leg, and gave you the sketchy metal joints you now had. 

It was around the age of nine, living at a home further up in Greece with your mother. She had woken you up in the middle of the night, or what you had thought was her. There was a horrible screaming, and you’d almost at once found out why once you opened your eyes. A blaze had lit your room, there was the streaming of smoke billowing around you, and the shrieks of sirens. You don’t really remember much at all, other than by the time you were out of that house, your shoulder ached, and you couldn’t feel your right arm or left leg. Your brother had told you that you had gotten caught trying to climb out of the upper window, and when you finally fell free, your knee had been injured and you landed hard on your elbow. How that did as much damage as it had, you didn’t know, but you never questioned your brother.

They had to amputate, and had given you the options of an extremely expensive technology for your replacements Your family was not living wealthily at the time, and instead you had accepted an experimental procedure, which used the least amount of tech possible. Your arm had been removed, and your elbow had been reattached with a metal elbow piece. The procedure had gone well, but the nerves in your arm were so damaged that now it fidgeted and twitched at it’s past damage. Your leg was better, but weak. The knee that was replaced had only a little muscle within it, causing it to be flimsy and make you limp. 

“Y/n,” came the little hum, and you looked up into your father’s eyes. He hadn’t been around that day. He had been finishing up in the war, and on his way home. One of the lucky ones. His hand was on your cheek and he was wiping away your tears. “You’re safe?” He held a furrowed, concerned expression, his teeth biting his lip. You noticed that he had sweat heavily through his silver hair, turning it grey with dampness. He had dark bags of stress under his eyes. You decided, even if your lungs burned, you were okay. You didn’t want him to worry that much about you. You nodded your head and gave him a smile, coaxing a small one in return from him. That seemed to let him relax, and he settled back down to put his arm around your mother. You took to leaning your head back, and taking a rest.

\- - - -

You were woke up by a heavy jerk to your bad arm, causing you to cry out as you hit the ground hard on your feet. You looked up, and your brother was staring with determination somewhere behind you. It was all you could do to stay on your feet, let alone manage your balance if you turned around to see. Instead you struggled to steady yourself as he began to guide you along, after your mother and father, who were hurrying ahead as well. Nobody else was moving. Everyone looked confused? In the distance there was a rumble, a different rumble from the flames. A bike? 

As you were tugged along, you felt the sound begin to resonate in your chest, and your brother shoved you against a nearby wall. You hacked with discomfort, a boiling itch swirling in your lungs. Your wide eyes stared down the way, and the waves of people sitting on the ground peaked up and began to frantically scramble for a place to hide or move out of the way of… 

A dirty, black motorbike screamed around the corner, and with it came the horrible cackling, louder and more clear than what you’d heard before. Something was lobbed from the side care into the crowd, and they went up with a bang. Your neighbors and friends screamed, panic at the blood near them sending them scrambling away.

Your brother tried to pull you, into an alley. You stood, shocked at what was happening. Why? This was Ilios, this wasn’t some war zone. The hog neared you and rage shook you, bringing more hot, salty tears down your cheeks without the usual burning warning of your nose. You stepped forwards, and you felt a hard hand on your arm. They neared and you cleared your blurry eyes to see them. A large man with a gas mask, and a smaller man in the sidecar, rat-like and snickering. You wheezed, your lungs burning as you gathered your courage. “What,” you shouted, and you caught the attention of the big one, but he didn’t slow, he was gliding to the side to pass you.

“What did we do to deserve this?!” You winced as another bomb went off, quickly scrambling back and staring wide eyed at the blonde one, he of which had his hair on fire… dear god his hair was on fire. Fear bloomed in you and you noticed the money fluttering from a bag next to the smaller one… they...they had taken all their money. All of your neighbor’s riches, that’s what they were after? “You got what you wanted,” you yelled again, grunting as you were tugged back onto your rear by your brother, he of which was nearly shouting at you to shut up. “Why are you just… being a dick?!” They crashed past you, and your words were lost. 

You’d thought they were lost. The memory stung you like a brand, even two, three minutes later. The laughter had stopped, and the small one was staring at you in silence, his smile gone. His shoulders were tense, he seemed ready to leap off of the cart, but the big hand of the other was twitching, ready to grab him. Then they were gone, around the corner and off into the distance towards the Ruins, leaving nothing but skid marks and smoke stains behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, lemme know how it's going? Comment, etc, lemme know if it's too fast, too slow, etc!


	3. A Half Step and a Jump

It was a couple days after the incident with the fire. The house was destroyed, and there were volunteers helping take the wreckage away, omnics and humans alike. Your house was untouched, everything in there was alright. The neighbors were pronounced dead, and your father was taking it especially hard. He had been good friends with the trader man, and grieved for his loss. He claimed that Ilios would take an economical hit, as he had been a large portion of the income to the city, and that’s why he was upset. Your father had never been one to admit his closeness with other people, and he hardly did so with your mother. You could tell he was taking it hard by the way he used any other reason to be sad, other than simply: we were friends. 

You yourself were uninjured, though you had gained a horrible cough from the inhalation of smoke. You were taking honey for the rawness in your throat, and hadn’t left your house for a few days… now your mother needed more milk, so she gave you a few coins, and sent you off. You left into the cold white sun, taking the turn out of your house down the hard stone paths. You couldn’t get your mind off of how that man had stared at you after you’d yelled. There was a deep feeling that you’d regret saying a single thing, and a paranoia about every corner you shuffled around, your hands gripping your upper arms to try and keep yourself warm. It certainly was chilly today… the view out to the ocean from the front of your house was no longer blocked… what an ugly view. 

The rubble being removed left a bitter taste in your mouth. A horrible sludge that dragged at your feet down to the market, that of which wasn’t as large as it was every week. It was the few people, a couple tables with eggs and milk, with flour and others with fruits and the like. It was a rather cold day to do so, at least for a summer like this. It was a usual damp, ocean-side morning, and people were clad with their longer sleeved shirts and jeans, smiles on their faces as they sipped lukewarm tea drinks to shake off the chill. You limped forwards into the few tables, and they greeted you wholeheartedly, as they always did when they weren’t busy within the market days. You gave them a half hearted smile. You could always count on your friends to try and cheer you up, but they seemed to know just as well as you today, that you weren’t in a good mindset. You paid quietly for milk, and they cooed gentle reassurance your way, not enough to make it seem like pity: they were good at knowing the limits. 

On your way out, one of them gently stopped you, an older woman just a few years older than your mother. “Y/n, honey… you know the best person to talk to if you have something on your mind is Madam Yaya,” she said kindly, her tone soft. You stared up at her wise old eyes, knowing that they knew what they were talking about. You nodded, and murmured that you’d consider visiting Yaya later. 

Yaya was the elder of the town, your great god-mother and many other peoples adopted family. Her husband had passed away and all her children had gone off to better things, or to war a long time ago. She loved to tell the children stories, sitting in her old rocking chair and telling them tales of adventure and kindness. The children always hung on every word, and you can remember being there, with the others, listening day after day one summer. She was always there for you when you scraped your knee, but you’d never gone off and told her anything personal...you’d never passed across the line of ‘adulthood’ with Yaya, as you’d almost always just told your mom your troubles with your life. 

Now was the first time you’d ever felt the need to hide something from your mother. Those two men, the two on the bike, the way they reacted when you’d yelled at them and the way your father had made you all cower… your parents knew something, and you didn’t want them to know what you knew in case they’d shoot you down. You had a strong feeling that they’d push you out of the situation, deny anything unless you had a strong case to sit them down and make them talk. You didn’t want them to hold you back from this, to protect you like they protected you constantly with your injuries. You had to figure this out on your own, or at least without their help.

So later that afternoon, after you’d dropped off the milk at home and smiled half-heartedly at your mother’s happy comments, you made your way up the hill towards Yaya’s home, near the ruins. Recently she’d been giving home and food to a few members of an excavating group, those of which were more in the ruins than in her home. It was all the way up the mountainous shore, and so it took a great amount of strain for you to trek all the way there. Your leg began to ache and your calves burned with the incline of some of the streets. 

By the time to reached the flatness of nearby the ruins, your toes curled with an ache and your legs felt weak, like they had turned to jam. You wobbled up to Yaya’s front door, pausing to just take in the scenery, slowly looking around to see a chair nearby. You carefully helped yourself to a seat, knowing she wouldn’t mind. Your eyes stared quietly out over the cliff in front of you. The ocean stretched far out in front of you, the waves arching against the rocks at the bottom. Further down the cliffline was the ruins, making Yaya’s house between Ilios and there. You could see cars and men marching like ants from here, doing something or another in that old place. You can remember children going to run and play in those ruins, however your mother always warned you that you may get hurt. 

Another time she protected you because of your deformities. Pain ached at your heart as to came to that realization. You’d been babied all your life, and although you loved your mother and father dearly, that hurt to think you hadn’t been able to do so many things because they wouldn’t let you try. A deep sigh rattled your bones and you leaned back, closing your eyes as you stared up at the lip of the roof on Yaya’s home. Many little trinkets and decorations tangled from it, many of those from the children as gifts. Others were tokens and symbols to keep out bad spirits or bring in good luck, things like that. 

You closed your eyes, relaxing to the sound of the ocean and the distant clicking of excavation at the ruins. After a moment you heard a soft whooshing of a door opening, and opened your eyes to see Yaya shuffling through it, smiling with her bright eyes at you. She must have seen you through the window. How long ago, you weren’t sure. She gently crept out to sink onto her old rocking chair, folding her hands over her lap. 

Yaya was in her eighties, old and hunched with dark almond skin from years of sun. She was wrinkled like a raisin. She had long nails, painted with bright, messy colors by many of the children, and a pair of glasses, circular and fitting nicely on her wide nose. She was a wide-set lady, husky and jolly at her best. Mellow and wise at her worst.

“Hello, y/n, dear… it’s been too long,” she said kindly in her shaky voice, like her lungs were shivering. You stared at her for a while, feeling a sudden guilt at not coming up here more often in the last ten years or so. You did enjoy her company but… “Oh, stop with that look, child. I’m fine on my lonesome sometimes,” she laughed, a very light, but hearty thing. “Now, what have you come to me to talk about, sweetheart?” You watched her, staring into her wrinkled, smiling eyes with a long sigh. 

You took a deep breath, tasting the salt of the ocean and the flowery perfumes of the plants around the small shack. You took your time in releasing it, before finally leaning down to stare at your shoes. How would you start? You could talk about the fire, which she surely saw or heard about by now. You could talk about the two men, how they looked at you, what they did. Where they went? You could talk about your past, what fire had done to you. “Yaya, did my mother tell you what happened to me?” You turned again to look back at her. You could tell that your eyes were wide the hope, as you really felt like starting from the beginning, but if you didn’t have to go back to that in verbal word, then you didn’t want to. 

You watched as the old Madam slowly shook her head yes, holding a contemplative, concerned look on her old face. You nodded back, a habit to mimic other’s movements when you were in any tense, anxiety-inducing situations. “Okay,” you whispered, staring down at your lap. “A couples days ago, there was a fire in town.” You could see her nodding again in your peripherals. “It was right across from my house. I woke up on the hammock outside and my brother was pulling me away, and my parents were running and... “ 

Your breath started to drag itself away from you. You knew your head was spinning, and you had to jerk to catch yourself and slow down. “I saw two men in the fire. They were causing it, and there was a motorbike outside of the house. When we were finally in safety I heard it start up. The two men came riding down the street where all the people were hiding, and… there was a big one, and a small one.”

“The big one had on a mask, a gas mask, with a pig snout on it? It was strange… he was the one driving. Then the other one, the smaller one, was in a sidecar. He was just,” you felt your mind’s eye shift back into the moment you saw them round the corner. “He jumped and jittered like he was having a spasm. He was just, twitching, and giggling with glee. And while they drove through, he had this gun… and it launched bombs into the people, and he just kept laughing.” 

“I started yelling at them. It was stupid, I know, I could have gotten killed but I just got so mad at them. I mean, what gives them the right to do that to people?!” You hadn’t realized you’d started ranting and rambling in a louder tone, but Yaya didn’t seem fazed. She seemed proud at your confidence in what you did. “So I told them that they didn’t get to do that, that it wasn’t fair and they should stop… and they did. I mean, they kept driving and they went past so fast I don’t think anyone else saw it… but the little one was just staring at me. He was just staring, Yaya.” You finally had trailed off and looked at her, and she was staring off at the ruins now. 

“The worst part is that my parents know something, and aren’t telling me. They knew to run when the motorcycle started up, and nobody else did. I think they knew those men, or knew of them?” You waited, but Yaya said nothing. There was a long silence, and you sat, staring at the grass. You began to become impatient, fidgeting and feeling your bad arm twitch with their frayed nerves. Using your other hand, you clapped it down onto your knee, staring at it in silence. The muscles twitched and flexed in agitation, and you wished, like one wished to save a crying puppy, to sooth them and make them feel better. 

It started to become clear to you that Yaya was letting you calm down, and it was working. The gentle breeze and the occupation with watching your fingers and skin fidget drew your previously racing mind into a slower process. She appeared to see this, and cleared her throat, bringing your attention to her. “Well, honey,” she said kindly, reaching out to put one of her frail old hands on your knee. “I can see that you aren’t going to go and sit down with your mother and ask her, so I say you do what you feel is right. You’ve already decided what you’re going to do, in your own mind. All you needed to do was talk about it,” she said, her eyes sparkling. 

You knew? What did you know? What could you do about the situation at hand, at all? You were a cripple who had no money and no transportation, and no education. How could you possibly know where to go with all of this? There was no way to find out what your parents knew. It was obvious that nobody in the neighborhood knew, as they didn’t get up and run off. Any remains of what happened in the fire were gone, so you couldn’t search there. There was nothing. The only other place you could look was to the two men, who went off to the ruins somewhere…

“The men,” you whispered, looking at Yaya as if for confirmation. She gave you a wide, happy grin, and you shot up from your chair. “My mother is going to kill me! What, do I run off to find two guys throwing bombs everywhere?!” Your voice was shrill, but Yaya didn’t flinch. Her face scrunched in the slightest before she chortled at your struggles. She shrugged and stared at you for a little longer. You knew what she was going to say. The choice was up to you, and that was all you needed to let out a horrified sigh. You needed to go to the ruins. God, your knee was going to kill you.


	4. Bloody Oath

It was a bumpy, short ride home as the sun went down, and Junkrat hadn’t even paid attention to it all. It was one second, then the next; then he was back at the airship, and Hog was parking his motorcycle in it’s usual comfy place in the corner. It was rather early still, just hardly dawn outside from what Junk could tell as he glanced at the closing hanger door, his amber eyes following the rays of faint light as they narrowed into nothingness, leaving the dust to whirl around by itself. It felt like that whole trip down into Ilios had happened a few days back, however they still had the money, and they were still warm and soot covered from the blasts. Junkrat’s face coiled up into a conflicted grimance as he fidgeted his head towards Roadhog, to watch him. He found the big guy just kind of staring back at him. Junk decided not to pay him too much attention; his eyes went back to the take he had bundled in the large bag, that of which Road had put in the sidecar, and was now where Junkrat was having a seat.

All that, just in one house, hell all that in one safe? “People ‘n Ilios don’t believe ‘n banks or somethin’?” He turned his smoldering eyes up to Roadie, who didn’t exactly reply, kind of just stood there and … breathed. “What? Nothin’ ta’ say?” Junkrat stiffly began swinging his legs out of the clunky sidecar, wobbling slightly as he took a few clicking, uneven steps. It was always hard to get out of that damned thing, especially since the roads here were bumpy as hell; it was hard on his tailbone, that was for sure. He stumbled a little as he tried to find his balance, feeling his prosthetic slip and send him forwards, his knee buckling. Roadhog, the bastard, was quick when he wanted to be. Rat felt a hard jerk in his chest and he heaved, all the breath leaving him as his harness dug into his skin. He squirmed, his feet leaving the ground as he was lifted by his Riptire, and set back onto his feet. 

Rat turned to shoot Roadhog a smirk, managing to balance and giving a thumbs up. The tug on the setup he had disappeared and he was left to take a few more feet cautiously; every other step creaked and tapped against the hard floor. “Hey, Roadie? How much do ya’ think we got?” He spun around on one heel to glance at the garage hanger of the airship again, before turning back to the sidecar. Time to get that little bugger out of there, the bulky thing. He waited impatiently for a reply, knowing he might not get one as he put both of his hands on the bag and curled his black fingernails into the fabric. 

There was no answer for a while, and it only took a glance for Rat to know that Roadhog was too busy chaining down his bike so it didn’t fall or get harmed when they took off back to base within the next week, at some point. He supposed the big guy had to concentrate to make sure he got it secure enough, or else he’d have to fix it, or have a fit or… something. Junkrat had never seen it fall, since Roadie was always so gentle with the hunk of metal. 

Junkrat decided to just go on with what he’d been trying to do; get the bag of money out from where Roadhog had stuffed it. The sidecar jiggled and jerked as he pulled, unable to unjam the stupid sack. Frustration began to show clearly on his face, a feral coil of his lip showing his sharp teeth. “Roadie, hey,” he puffed, grunting in his own struggle, even putting one foot up on the side of the rim to use that leverage to try and get the damned thing out. There was no reply from his partner in crime and his face flushed with annoyance. He paid the stupid bastard to do shit for him, and answer him and all that other fancy shit. What was so important that he couldn’t help Rat in his time of desperate need?

“Roadhog!” Junkrat’s voice rang around the hanger with shrill frustration and he continued to struggle. His head jerked up in surprise as he heard a rough, hoarse huff. What the hell was he laughing for?! “‘Ey, it ain’t funny, you Larrikin,” he finally shouted, shrill and offended. He threw his hands up and stumbled back away from the bag, putting one on the bag of his neck to wipe at the ash and grime that was caked there, meanwhile his other hand waved towards the bag, an obvious move to try and pass blame for his scrawny figure and hurt pride. “What the bloody ‘ell do I pay ya’ for, you fuck?! Get the damned thing out before Reapy has a fit that we didn’t bring it with us to the… whatever it is!” He was nearly squeaking at this point, back in front of it and pulling with frantic displeasure at just how jammed this bag was.

A large palm clapped onto his slick, cinder covered forehead, and he was pushed back from the cart. “Debrief,” came the huffy, low gargle, a hint of the previous amusement still there as if he were smiling at Rat. He wiped his slimy hand on his pants and reached down to grip the bag, yanking it out of where it was lodged. He held it in the air and wiggled it, showing off how easy it was to get free before tossing it down at Junkrat’s feet. He turned and grabbed another clattering chain and proceeded to chain the cart down as well. 

Junkrat’s face felt like it was on fire, and although it wasn’t an unusual feeling, he was sure he’d put his hair out on the way here. Stomping his peg childishly, he scrambled over the bag to take his crude weapon out of the way of Roadie, muttering curses at him. He continued while he put his gun down beside the bag, being none-too careful with the hunk of junk, until he got to a particularly funny insult towards the large bodyguard. It cut right through his unhappiness. “Yeah, yeah! That’s what ya’ are. mate,” he whooped, before howling out in a chorus of giggles. He clapped his fleshy hand over his stomach as he laughed, using his prosthetic arm to reach down and grab the bag. 

He rolled the bag up his leg and side, managing to get it up onto the hill of his bony shoulders. It wobbled and he hunched over a bit more to balance it between his shoulder-blade and the knob of his shoulder. He lurched to one side as he did so, before leaning away from the weight in an attempt to redistribute it. It was then he began taking a strolling, battered gate out into the next hallway, further into the airship and out of the hanger. Behind him, the heavy footfalls of Roadhog boomed off of the walls, making a comforting kind of heartbeat in the metal space. Comforting in a weird, giant murdering-machine kind of way. 

“Hey, Roadie,” he suddenly started, turning his attention back towards the larger man as he walked. “Why do I gotta hold the heavy stuff, you’re th’one who’s bigger than me,” he stated, pointing one of his long, dainty fingers at the large man. Roadhog gave a huff of amusement and his reply wasn’t immediate, which wasn’t surprising. Still, Rat walked with one eye on the guy. “All I’m sayin’,” he stated a few moments later, “Is that I should get my turn next, not carryin’ stuff. And you should carry it instead!” He watched him, and saw his shoulders shaking and his large stomach huff inward in a silent laugh. Then there was a wheeze and the noise came out as a chortle, only to slowly fade off. Roadhog’s amusement left them in a lighthearted silence, and the Rat got what he wanted. Good. 

They walked steadily out towards the main lounge area, where Hog took his place in front of Junkrat and lead them both towards the back hall, where their room was, where Widowmaker’s office was, and of course, Reaper’s office as well. Roadie made quick work of opening their door, and placing his shrapnel gun inside, before taking the grenade launcher, that of which Junkrat must have forgot entirely, off of his belt loop and setting it in there as well. Junkrat stood still as he felt Roadhog move around him, keeping an eye on him through his peripherals as a large hand clasping over the riptire on his back. 

A long time ago, perhaps when Junkrat had first hired the big guy, Roadhog would have only taken orders, doing no more than he had to. They’d slept in separate places, Junkrat preferring a mess of blankets rather than a bed, and Roadhog on a makeshift mattress on the floor. This was back before they had both booked it out of the Outback, and where Roadhog hardly spoke more than necessary to him. That part had hardly changed, at least on missions. 

Now, he stood still, concentrating hard on keeping the damned money from falling off his shoulder, or worse, making him fall over; that would be a pain. All the while Roadhog was pulling off the harness and tossing it into the room they shared, different sleeping spaces still but.. It was different. “Hey,” came the gruff puff of air. The mutter sent Junkrat’s head snapping back up to Roadhog, who was looking at him, ready to go. 

“Yeah,” muttered the smaller of the two, giving a wide grin and shaking past thoughts from his head. They never came up much, really. When they did they were soon forgotten within the next few lobs of a bomb. He kept a quick pace with Roadhog, who had turned and was now moving towards the door at the end of the hall. Time to do the...whatever it was. Boredom and annoyance was pricking at Junkrat’s nose, making him feel like he needed to sneeze and shake it off. Sniffing once, he pushed that away, deciding that, with a bag of cash on his back, it would be a bad idea to let that out. 

In his mindless absence, Roadhog had opened the door without warning and they were inside the clean, dark office. The lights were on, however the wood of the table was a deep mahogany, and everything else was either a dark earthy shade, or black. That didn’t include the few little decorations here or there that Reaper must not have been able to help himself with. A couple strings of paper decorations hanging above the small windows out to the dark grass. They were some sort of flowers, Junkrat decided, probably meaning something or another but they looked out of place in this room. There were other minor things like that, such as the bowl of strange candies that, despite being on the desk, were not for visitors. He’d tried to take one once and gotten a deadly feeling about unwrapping the damned thing. When he’d looked up again, the Boss was looking at him with that stupid mask of his. Junkrat had never seen Reaper actually eat one, either, but it was emptied and refilled often. Someone had to be chomping on those things. 

“I see you are back,” came the dark, gravelly tone of the Boss. There was a grunt of confirmation out of Roadhog, in which the weight was suddenly lifted off of Junkrat’s shoulders, sending him stumbling forwards and scrambling out to grab the chairs in front of him. They slid on the floor, and down he went, nearly eating the edge of the dest on his way down. Pain seered across his under-arm area where he’d strained trying to keep himself up, and as he giggled and tried to stand back up, he heard the thump of the money being set on the ground, and that big hand stretched down and picked Junkrat up by the waistband. He was set into one of the chairs, the one he’d not pulled over with him, and the large hand left, only to clap over the top of his head and ruffle his burnt hair. 

That was the usual sign to be still and not fuck more shit up. Sitting with his hands clasped, he stared at them. It had been said to him to just think about other shit while he was sitting in a chair, not wanting to pay attention, instead of moving and picking and touching things, but all Junkrat could think about at this point was how much he didn’t want to be here. He stirred while Roadie and Reaper talked about how it went, and it slowly devolved into full on fidgeting. He played with the edges of his messed up shorts, picking at the few stitching around hte patches that he’d had put on there due to to the many holes he had. At one point he wondered if it’d just be all patches, and no shorts. 

That made him giggle and he played around with the idea in his head before growing tired of it. Sure a pair of shorts made of only patches was cool, but probably very uncomfortable. He twitched again, flickering his amber eyes up to Roadhog, to Reaper, then back at his twitching hands. A tight knot of unhappiness began to setting in his diaphragm, leaving him with the unmistakeable need to get up, shout and laugh and take the few bombs he’d been left with to the interiors of this stupid, boring office. He felt a tremor go through him and he slowly reached his arms above his head, realizing he needed a stretch. He arched his back and fought the urge to just groan. That, he’d found out, was disrespect, and been scolded and threatened from it. 

How much longer was this stupid meeting going to be? Why was it ever necessary to tell Reaper how it went? It went good, they brought the money back, the town was going crazy with it. Not much damage was done. “No holdbacks except…” the phrase would have pricked any dog’s ears, and Junkrat was no exception. He turned his head up and stared at Roadhog as he spoke. “-Who yelled at us, stopped Rat from his usual stuff. Not sure what got into ‘im, but ‘es back to normal.” His amber eyes stared silently at Roadhog for a long moment, almost hurt that he just had to bring that up. He was about to let it go and yell at him once they got out of there, to avoid being nagged at by Reaper and kept longer, when he felt a cold chill run down his spine. Great. 

“What’a ya’ starin’ at me for now,” he growled, though it shrieked up in the middle and sounded like a hurt whine rather than the unhappy gargle he’d meant. Whatever it was, it wasn’t worth staring at him for. It was just one thing. The girl had shocked him was all, was that it? Was that what this was about? 

Junkrat stared dead at the white mask as it gaped emptily back at him. “I assume it won’t happen again,” the Boss finally spoke, slowly leaning over the desk and clasping his hands together, the metal claws clicking slightly. 

That stupid remark made Junkrat scoff in annoyance, standing up angrily and slamming a hand on the desk, his metal prosthetic clattering as he did so. “Bloody oath,” he shot back, and he could see Roadhog shift slightly closer to him to hold him back if necessary. There was another long, stupid silence in that damned boring room. 

“Dismissed.”


	5. E-lim-i-nate!

It had gotten late during your visit to Yaya, with the sun waning down onto the ocean’s horizon. The thoughts of the incident that had happened those couple days ago ached in your mind. Where had they gone? You had to find out, so you stood up and said a pleasant goodbye to Yaya before turning and making the hard journey towards the ruins, your knee feeling like it was about to buckle under you at any moment. 

You forged ahead anyway, knowing that you couldn’t go back home before you at least found out which direction the two men had gone after leaving. It was a few days after their departure, after all, and if they weren’t at the ruins, they had to have passed it up at some point. The road out of Ilios trailed past the ruins, while the other direction lead into sparse homes and open fields. The only way out of that area was going up a cliff, or off a cliff. 

They had to have passed the ruins, you told yourself again, the constant thought pushing courage into your step as you took the steep road up, into the outskirts of the ancient relics. You began to pass large columns, those of which were crumbled and broken. A few of the taller ones cast their shadow across your neck, making the hair along your spine stand on end. You hunched down in a defensive reflex, suddenly feeling like you were being watched by those shadows. Soon, the columns turned into broken and crumbled buildings, and then larger structures like the frames of what could have been a meeting house. You slowly crept down the steps into the large frame, into a dip and onto the shattered, broken remains of a tiled floor. It crunched under your shoes and you winced. Shadows flickered ahead of you, and upon closer inspection, you could see that they were being created by what looked to be a large fire. You crept closer, limping up the stairs on the other side of the meeting house and poking your head out into a nearly untouched region of the ruins.

There were crates of supplies strewn in piles here and there, along with ropes and lanterns hung and slung wherever they were last used. Before you was a towering structure of four columns, creating a large frame of what appeared to be a temple. You crept ahead, feeling the sudden urge to get down as the horrible feeling of being watched crept up your spine again. You slunk up to the nearest pile of boxes and pulled yourself up onto one, poking your head out over them and staring into the temple-like area. There were stairs down into the large open space, and there appeared to be rooms on the far back wall, as well as writings. More crates and supplies were piled here and there in the pit, and there were people carrying and carting things back and forth between a pile and what appeared to be a group of miners. They were trying to open up what looked to be a sealed door.

There was one man wandering through the group, his hands behind his back and his head and chin held high. He stared down the bridge of his nose at the others, a sneer hard on his face as he scrutinized their work. There was a heavy sense of foreboding in the air, and though you felt curiosity tug you towards the work place, your senses pointed you towards the large airship in the background. You stared at it from your point of reference; it was a large, even beastly thing. It’s dim lights shone through various windows, and there were shadows that crossed through them once and awhile.

Were the two men in there? The airship was so large that they’d either gone into there or passed it… maybe someone had seen them? They had left the town a few days ago, so they were probably long gone if they had passed by… but you could check the next town up, see if they’d seen them as well. You’d hopefully be able to track them down. 

What were you doing? Going off without even mentioning it to your mom, no money, no food, and with a crippled knee. It was already aching and you were hardly a mile from your house. You sighed and scrambled off of the crates, hearing the soft catching of your clothes catching on splintered wood. You pulled away and began a hurried crouch towards the outside of the ruins, avoiding going through the mining pit. You neared the side of the cliff, staring over it with a frown, feeling a cold breeze whip your hair around your face. You quickly pushed it back out of the way again before hurrying off towards the next building, hoping to use it as some cover from the wind on your walk towards the airship. 

Your feet went to stepping on dirt and grass to hard, cracked stone on the inside of the next house, your eyes scanning the insides of the ruined building. There were broken shards of pottery and furniture lying about, left where they had once been used and battered by either scavengers or the weather. You frowned, leaning down to gently touch the rough tile… There were greasy footprints on them of various sizes, and a chill ran through you as you realized that those men passed through this building often. Time to go, you thought, taking a deep breath and quickly standing to hurry out into the windy outside again. Were any of those footprints those of one of the men? You hardly got a good look at them, hell what did you know about them?

The big guy, he had tattoos along his stomach, and arms maybe? He had a gasmask and heavy boots, and reminded you of an angry boar. Then the smaller guy, he had blonde hair that was on fire, and he was shirtless, with a weird bag on his back. No, it wasn’t a bag but… a tire? You shuffled your feet along, moving closer to the airship as you tried to recall the image from those few days ago. He had an orange…. A mechanical arm, the one that had been furthest from you, so his right arm. He had shorts on, too. 

Brow furrowed in concentration, you hardly noticed as you stepped out into the open, in view of two men standing on either side of the entrance to the airship. There was a barked command from one that snapped you out of your thoughts. You winced and your eyes shot up to the pair, both wearing black and holding a hard, trained expression. Your hands shot into the air. One had the barrel of a gun pointed straight at you. “Wait,” you shouted, awkwardly hunching down as if to dodge a bullet that wasn’t shot. “I’m looking for two men,” you shout again, hearing your own voice waver. What were you doing here, with this guy pointing a god damned gun at you?! “Two! One’s a big guy, the other is s-smaller and t-they have a bike!” Curses streamed through your head but you clamped your mouth shut to avoid muttering them under your breath. 

You chanced a glance up, seeing the man with the gun start towards you, and the other hurry inside the airship. The armed man was closing in on you, a scowl on his face. Frozen to the spot, you just watched his cold eyes as his hand gripped your arm and dragged you forwards. Your feet kicked out behind you and you shrieked in surprise as he pushed your arm behind your back, jerking your shoulder painfully and pushing your cheek into the dirt. He didn’t say anything, and you could hear the clicking of that gun going back to it’s holster. Taking a deep breath, you tried to keep your mind off of the pain that was searing through your shoulder. 

“Hey,” came the shout, and you looked up awkwardly, straining your eyes to see the second man waving to come inside the airship. Seconds later you were lifted awkwardly onto your knees, and then onto your feet. The fall to the ground had jarred your knee, but with the painful encouragement of the man shoving you forwards, tearing at your arm, you managed to walk quickly towards the airship. 

As you were escorted up the ramp, the wind began to fad behind you, leaving your hair a bit frizzy and wild as you were brought into the light. You glanced around, looking at the various shelves filled with rolled papers and posters. There was a dart board on the far wall, a picture of some guy pinned to it and darts piercing his face. There were chairs around with buckles and other safety measures left open and waiting for the next use. They lined the walls. There was a table, connected to the ground, covered in what looked to be a weapon in the process of being cleaned. Other tables were splayed around, a few with drinks and weapons as well, others covered in what must have been paperwork.

Your attention was brought forcibly up to the next approaching person with a hand grabbing the back of your head and jerking it back. You grunted and bit the inside of your cheek, staring ahead at a taller, slender woman walking towards you. Her hair was sleek but frizzed, as if she’d just woken up and hastily put it up. Her eyes were sharp and awake, though behind them was a sense of stress. Her skin was the first thing off about her, a shade of powder blue, bringing her to appear cold and unfeeling. 

“Zis is ‘er?” A thick accent you didn’t recognize curled around you, and you heard her mutter under her breath. “Stupid rat.” She shifted her gaze to the guard beside her and motioned with one hand, her pale lips pursed in annoyance before she turned on you, staring down her nose at your shorter, hunched form. “And you,” she murmured, “You come seeking ze two men who were in your village earlier zis week.” It was more of a statement than a question, but you tried to nod around the pain of your pulled hair all the same. 

She was examining you closely, looking you up and down and narrowing her eyes as if trying to read you like a book. You felt cold dread creeping through you at that unfeeling gaze she had. She said no more, turning around on her slender legs and pacing a few steps back before crossing her arms and holding a rather authoritative stance, wide set and chin up. You soon heard what she seemed to be waiting for. 

Loud, heavy steps were coming down a near hall, where the second soldier had gone off at this woman’s command. There was some heavy breathing, raspy and hard. Soon, the soldier emerged, and out behind him was the larger man you remember seeing. He was dressed more casually, with a large black tanktop on, stained with something or another. The room was suddenly washed in gasoline and smoke smells, and you weren’t the only one to notice it. The woman scoffed and waved a hand near her face as if to clear it, glaring down at something in the large man’s arm. 

Then came the cackles, and your eyes fell to the smaller man you had seen, his blonde hair tipped with grey and his body covered in black soot. His shorts seemed to be smoking, solving the question as to why the room had gained a new perfume. 

“Zees are ze men you saw a few days ago in town?” The woman had turned back to you, staring you down with a newfound hatred. You struggled to nod, and she waved a hand. Your arm was dropped and you were left to awkwardly fold to the ground, not expecting to be released. The gigglings had stopped. 

“Rat, zis is your problem,” she spat, “Fix it.” And with that, she turned again, her hips swinging as she vanished down the hallway, still appearing quite disheveled at the smell. 

You watched the guards slowly march back out to their front door positions, and you stared past them, desperately into the open air. You should have just gone home… A clicking noise brought your attention back to the two men, where the large one had set down the littler one, and they were talking. “Now ‘ats more like it, you carryin’ me!” The laughter returned, loud and harsh now that they were up close. 

You slowly stood up, hugging your arms close to your body and putting your weight on your good leg, eyes cautiously watching the two guys. Their problem? What kind of problem was it, then? What was going to happen to you? “What does she mean by problem,” you boldly demanded, your grip tightening on your arms as they both turned and gave you their full attention. 

The smaller one seemed much more talkative, grinning wide at you and slowly moving in your direction with… a limp? Your eyes flashed to his feet and shock ran through you… he had a missing leg, too? Like you did, but on the other side. By the time you looked back up he was in front of you, standing straight and stretching his arms above his head. You gagged on the smell of man and smoke that rushed off of him, but he hardly seemed to notice. “A bad kinda problem, sheila,” he stated as he finished popping his back, hands on his hips. He stared down at you with a smile, though it wasn’t filled with happiness or amusement, but it wasn’t malice either. Calm? Concern? Wonder? You pursed your lips and pulled away as he leaned down, his nose inches from your face, and that awful, wretched smell burning your throat. 

“It’s the kinda problem that we were told ta’ eliminate,” taunted the man, and you had a feeling that the words he was using weren’t his own. It was in the way he pronounced eliminate by each syllable; “e-lim-i-nate” with a hard T,  like he was mocking someone. “Meanin’ kill,” came the jab, and you flinched away, the realization of what was happening hitting you. 

You felt yourself jerk back as one long arm lifted and sent a wave of musk in your direction, causing you to gag. He managed to catch you around the shoulders, and pull you close to his grimy, greasy side. He had that mechanical arm of his gripped around you in such a way that you were caught under one arm, making it impossible for you to get away from him; he’d solidly wedged you between himself and his strong grip. He was certainly less scrawny than you’d assumed. He swung you around, causing the world to blur for a moment before he began unevenly dragging you towards the larger of the two of them, the pig guy. 

You stumbled and felt your knee give out as you desperately tried to hold your own weight, but the heavy limp of this man and the way he carelessly pulled you along made your attempts futile. So you were quite literally dragged off of your feet, held awkwardly in this guy’s grip. “So,” he suddenly shouted, grinning down at you. “Cause you’re the problem I gotta’ e-lim-i-nate, according to the boss man, I ain’t gonna do that.” You stared at him in silence, shock forcing you into silence. A loud grunt from the pig-guy in front of you jolted you out of your frozen stance. You stopped staring up at the smaller man long enough to realize that you definitely did not want to be in this position, between life and death and in the slimy arms of a psychopath. 

You began to feel a hard panic set in your stomach, feeling his muscled side tense as he came to a stop to stare at you. He seemed to look you over before shifting your weight on his arm, and your heart nearly stopped in your throat as you were jerked into his arms. He’d reached his second arm around to grab you around the legs, scooping you up in a bridal style without warning. You flinched as he stumbled, though you were surprised he’d caught his balance so quickly. You would never have been able to do that. 

“I’ll make ya’ a choice,” he said, his voice shockingly quiet compared to how loud he’d been being. He was staring down at you with wide eyes, and you fidgeted under the strange amber color of them. He had one long finger up to his lips, and a wide grin playing across his face. There was a single gold tooth in his mouth. 

The more you looked the more you understood why that blue-lady had called him a Rat; at least you assumed it was him she’d muttered about. He had hard angles for features, with high cheekbones and a weak jawline. His nose was upturned and his chin pointed; his ears were small and rounded like a rodents would be, kinda sticking out of his crazy blonde hair. His eyes were an owlish round shape, however you could see how anyone else might call them beady. He had wild blonde eyebrows, but you admit to yourself you were surprised he had any at all.

He was… still staring. You brought your eyes back to his, but his smile had vanished, replaced with a quizzical purse of his lips. You couldn’t conceive a thought as to why, though it did dawn on you that you’d openly examined him while he was probably waiting for an answer from you. “I-I, uh,” you sputtered out, trying to figure out how to answer him without seeming helpless. “W-what are they?” Smooth. 

The guy’s smile returned, though it was less manic and more soft than the other ones you’d recently witnessed flashing on and off of his face. “Well, I could do exactly what the Boss-man wants us to do, and kill ya,” he stated, “Or you could hang out with Roadie and I, here! In the airship, and then back at the HQ!” He was beaming now, but you could only feel a defensive bile rising in your throat. 

“What, die or be held hostage?! Why can’t you let me go and just forget about it,” you demanded, feeling anxiety leaping in your chest like frantic, fluttering birds. This wasn’t alright. These two were strangers, and there was absolutely no reason that you could see that you couldn’t be let go back home. There wasn’t any reason to straight up kill you, let alone take you hostage! You began to frantically squirm in the smoky man’s hold, and the moment one of your arms connected with his gut, you heard a sudden huff and a heavy step towards you. 

The other man, Roadie as the Rat had called him, had take a step from his previously statuesque stance a couple yards away. His large hand gripped the back of your shirt like you were some kind of thrashing cat to be caught and tamed. You flailed and kicked and felt your foot connect with something, but what you didn’t know. There was no shriek from the Rat, or grunt or puff from Roadie. You swung your arms and writhed some more, until you found your efforts futile. There was no use, you were stuck there, two feet off the ground. 

You ended up swinging slightly, calm enough to glance down at the Rat, who was hunched down again, one hand on his stomach and a crazed look in his eye. He was muttering under his breath. “Listen up, Sheila, if you keep making a racket then the Boss is gonna hear and get his panties in a twist,” he wheezed, slowly straightening up. He assaulted your ears with another battering series of cackles, too close and much too loud. The smile was back and he was nearly face to face with you, his height versus you being lifted by the other massive man. 

“You see we can’t be letting you do anything else but that, cause you done seen me and Roadhog here already,” he told you, and your eyes grew wide. That explained a lot. 

Back down in Ilios, when the Rat and Roadhog were going through the street, the Rat had been throwing bombs into the crowd to get them to run, and to make more smoke. Was that so that they wouldn’t be seen well? 

A grunt made you flinch, “Boss wants to stay a step ahead of Overwatch. Gotta get rid of evidence.” Your eyes went straight to the beastly man holding you suspended in the air. So… that’s why the house was burnt so bad? That’s what was with the bombs, and that’s why you were a problem? A liability, or something like that? 

And just who were these guys that they had to be ahead of Overwatch? Overwatch had been put out a long time ago, they weren’t a problem anymore!

You must have had the expression of complete turmoil on your face, as your confusion was met with a look of dismissal by the smaller one. He reached a hand up to hold in front of your face, as if waiting for a handshake. Nervously, you reached down to take it in your own hand. It was the one thing you had control of doing right now, you decided. You couldn’t move, couldn’t scream to be let go, couldn’t run even if you were put down… shake the guy’s hand, take some control back. 

“So I’m Junkrat, and this here’s m’mate Roadhog,” came the hard statement from Junkrat. He had a determined look in his eye. “And since ya’ ain’t makin’ you’re own choice, I’ll make it for ya’!” He let go of your hand and pushed past you, moving under Roadhogs arm and further into the airship. Roadhog’s arm swung you around and planted you like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder, carrying you after Junkrat in a tense silence. 

There was no speaking on your way down the hallway, and there was a few moments of stillness as well, before you were moving into a doorway. “Roadie,” you heard Junkrat say as you watched the last glimpse of that exit door vanish around the corner. “Can we keep ‘er?” 

The door slide closed behind you, and you heard a harsh laugh. 

“I ain’t takin’ care of her.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've tried to clear up all I want to be cleared up in this chapter! As the story progresses I hope to unfold the mystery of what the entire situation is later on in the story! c:


	6. Angel Food

A lot had happened in the last few days, you decided. Only five days ago you had been sitting in your home in Ilios, eating a piece of fresh baked bread with jam on it, in the sun reading a good book. The salty ocean breeze had swept through your kitchen and your mother’s humming provided a delightful background noise to your novel. 

Now all you could smell was the sour stench of diesel and what you could only describe as the weird ashy fragrance of where smoke once was. After you had been sufficiently kidnapped by Junkrat and Roadhog, you were brought into what you assumed was their own room. Roadhog had dropped you onto a hard bed, and now there you were. 

Your gaze followed Junkrat across the room, where he hobbled here and there gathering what appeared to be strewn about blankets and pillows; however, picking those up did little for the still-cluttered room. The compartment wasn’t that large to begin with, just barely big enough for a single bed, a dresser, and a nightstand, add the additional walking space. The bed was sunken in with a permanent dip of where someone had lain. By the way it caved in the entire twin-sized bed, you could only assume that it was where Roadhog slept at night. It was messily made, obviously neat at one point but disturbed from being sat on frequently and used as a chair or extra table space when necessary. 

The dresser was cluttered with pieces and parts all over the top of it. Metal, springs, screws and wires stuck out of piles and groups all over. You were nervous that if you even so much as blew on some of those precarious piles that they’d fall right off and into the open drawers. Clothes and other tinkering supplies was haphazardly stuffed into the drawers, and a couple, from what you could see, were jammed open without hope of being closed again any time in the near future. 

The nightstand was in a nicer condition, with only a few things on it, and the drawer closed nicely. Firstly, there was a lamp that was plugged in, but not turned on, that rested just beside the nightstand, ready to be used for whatever purpose it served on the floor. The top of the stand had a large tool belt folded on top of it, and an empty glass that might have been used the night before for water. The drawer was closed, keeping you from seeing what was inside, but the small shelf just under the drawer had a few pieces and parts that seemed different than those all around the room, somehow. Maybe they were for something specific? You’d have to ask later to sate your curiosity, if you ever got the chance. 

The floor was just as messy as the dresser. There were larger parts scattered around, with bombs and other devices piled or put deliberately to where they could perhaps be found once again. The most notable thing on the floor was the giant pile of blankets, minus the ones that Junkrat was gathering in his arms, that seemed to act as a kind of nest. Was that where Junkrat...slept? Or was that his work-seat or… 

“There ya’ go, mate,” came the hoot, and your eyes snapped up onto Junkrat. The lean man was dropping the pile of fluffy bedding down right next to the pile you’d just been looking at. He didn’t do much more than that to it, though he was grinning again with all the lucid happiness in the world. He stared at you for a bit before chattering out another giggle and loping over to the side of the bed. 

He rocked the bed and put a huge dip in the mattress as he sat down beside you, so close that you could smell that stench of gas and ashes on him again. His weight on the springs caused you to tilt awkwardly, and instinctively you flailed your arms for balance as your side hit solidly against his, your rear sliding across the mattress into the dip he’d made. Whether or not he did it on purpose, or noticed your anxiety, his arm went up, and pulled you into a delighted half hug, arm around your shoulders. White hot panic burst behind your eyes and you jerked away from him, trying to push his arm off of you. His grip faltered and you were able to scoot away again, rubbing your arm where he had touched you as if it had burned and refusing to look up at him or around the room. If he thought you were at all happy with this, then he was horribly wrong. If he wanted to be nice, he could just let you leave. 

It was quiet in the room after that, but only for a minute before being interrupted by a series of grumbles out of Roadhog. What he had said, you couldn’t tell, but there was a soft thud that brought your eyes towards Junkrat again. Roadhog’s largee hand had clapped over the top of Junkrat’s head, little clumps of blonde hair poking through his fingers as he patted him like some kind of weird dog. There was a frown on Junkrat’s face, though after a few hard thumps on the head it had grown back into it’s usual, sharp toothed grin. 

“Oi, cut it out, ya’ bastard,” he snarled, though it was lighthearted. Roadhog’s low chortle answered his little threat, and it seemed to brighten Junkrat up enough to scramble off of the bed and dive into that weird pile of blankets he had made. You watched as he writhed and squirmed to stretch out and get comfortable, hands behind his head and ankles crossed, sending this and that clattering across the floor. “Ey, Sheila,” he murmured in a questioning way, and you glanced at him again to see his fingers stroking his chin. Your given attention pressed him to continue with a delighted expression clasping his hands together before snapping into a set of finger guns. “Whatcha’ name?” He certainly was animated… 

He waited, scooting up to sit while you tried to decide on that answer. You could always be stubborn and refuse to comply, refuse to do anything they wanted or answer any questions. Of course that could cause issues in itself, since they’d been nice enough to make an exception for you. Who’s idea was it anyway, to have to kill everyone who saw something they shouldn’t have? What kind of people were these ruin miners? Questions swirled through your mind and you took a deep breath, feeling the harsh smells sting your throat. The only way to get answers was to be cooperative. 

“Y/n,” you reply, nodding as if to confirm it. You lifted your eyes to stare back at Junkrat’s bright amber, watching as his furry eyebrows furrowed and his smile flattened into a contemplative look. This guy really was theatrical, wasn’t he. 

“Y/n,” he repeated slower, his accent twisting some of the vowels. “That’s a beaut’, ain’t it? Kinda fancy, too.” Back to smiling, his eyes wide and puppy-like as he looked up at you. You stared back with a neutrality, feeling slightly uncomfortable holding his gaze but you supposed it wasn’t too bad. He didn’t seem too bad. His hand lifted and you watched as he patted the pile beside him. “Well, come on then, we ain’t gotta’ extra bed for ya’ so I’ll help ya’ make a pile!” Was that what he called them? Piles? You supposed it was blunt enough, if not just plain obvious. 

You stood awkwardly and shuffled across the carpet, trying not to think about how grimy it must have felt. You’d prefer not to touch it. You half limped half stepped around the piles and dropped down onto your good knee beside your pile of blankets, carefully setting your other knee down as was habit since the operation. You could feel Junkrat’s eyes burning into you, but he didn’t seem to care enough to ask what he was thinking. Instead he squirmed up and onto his knees, facing you and the pile of blankets with twitching, fidgety fingers. You watched him, then looked at his little nest pile, then back at yours. How were you going to make this as comfortable as possible? The nest style that the Rat had made seemed quite padded, and if you added a flat blanket on it and a pillow it would just be like a smaller bed, right? 

“How about,” you said, deciding to give Junkrat something to do with those anxious hands of his, “How about you help me make it like yours?” Out of the corner of your vision his body vibrated with excitement at the activity, and he was quick to scramble out of his bedding and over to you. He knelt near you, once again to close for comfort, but you were beginning to realize that he was not too keen on personal space. 

He was sat hunched, and even so he was taller than you by a couple inches. You stared up at him as he stuck his tongue through his teeth, pulling at your blankets and moving them here and there. He had such a look of concentration on his face that he looked ready to implode. “And,” you fidgeted and felt a hand grab your arm, looking up at him as he grinned at you, a suddenly wild look in his eyes. Fear stabbed through you and you gave a shout of surprise as his other hand shoved you forwards, into the pile. You made a delightful dent in the plush pile, and with a few flailed kicks you fell still again, eyes staring wide up at Junkrat, who was leaning over you. “Done,” he cackled, smiling all the joy he had down at you. 

Done? You stared down at your pile, where you had made a large dent in the plush bunches of blankets, and then over to Junkrat’s nest...oh. Oh! “Woah,” you said, feeling a weird urge to giggle rise up in you. You stretched out and felt the warmth of the blankets close around you. At this point, maybe you didn’t even need a blanket to cover yourself with. There was a soft thump to your left, and you gently turned your head to see Junkrat flopped down in his own bed, all stretched out and comfortable again. He sure was tall. 

You lay back and relax in your own little crater of blankets, staring up at the ceiling and letting your mind wander. Was your mother worried for you? Were they all looking for you yet? It had to be late out, since it had already gotten dark by the time you were here in the airship. You hoped they wouldn’t blame Yaya if you didn’t make it back home. She hadn’t forced you to come up here, and it wasn’t fair if they said she had. And in the situation you were in now, you didn’t think you were going to be leaving any time tonight. You’d try to be nice and have manners and be as polite as you possibly could. Then you would ask Junkrat and Roadhog as nicely as you could to leave. If you promised not to say a word about them, maybe then they’d let you go? 

Still, they had said it wasnt’ up to them, that it was the word of some boss that they had. And who was this boss? You could talk to him, promise you wouldn’t say a thing, swear it on your life that you wouldn’t say a thing and that you’d just forget it all. If you did all that, while giving them the utmost respect, they had to let you leave. You could go home, and sleep on a hammock and eat warm bread and jam and savory seasoned chicken for your… 

“Dinner,” came the rumble, and you started with a jolt. You stared around the room and caught sight of Roadhog, who you hadn’t even seen leave the room, and was now walking in with some trays. He slowly lowered himself onto the floor between the two blanket beds, balancing the food filled trays on his arm. He slowly lifted one of the trays from his forearm and set it in front of Junkrat, who was scrambling up to get ahold of what was on it. The tray was piled with a few patties of what you were assuming was pork, a slice of pizza, a pile of mixed fruit, and a pile of lettuce with a few other vegetables over it: so a salad, with the dressing on the side.  

You laughed as Junkrat’s excitement crashed down, showing visibly on his face as he sat all the way up. His eyes flickered up to Roadhog and you followed them, looking at the empty tray he pulled out and set beside Junkrat, and then the other two trays. One was covered in cookies, cakes, and other sweets, and the last was piled high with protein packed foods. You assumed that one was Roadhogs. Your eyes lingered on the sweets, filled with sugar and other things that would rot anyone’s teeth. All the sweetness you had gotten at home were from berries and honey, since sugar was expensive. How could they just...have all those different kinds? 

The tray disappeared behind Roadhog’s back and you heard Junkrat growl with annoyance. “I gotta eat all of this?” A grunt, “I can’t have one bite a’ cake?” Roadhog shook his head and began eating, and you turned to Junkrat, smiling at his misfortune with guilt. He was pouting like a child might. Junkrat was awkwardly lifting his tray to try and take his fork and push some of his food onto the empty tray, dropping some grapes or other weird fruits you didn’t know if you knew onto the floor. The meat patty flopped onto the tray, and after that came half the salad… wait.

“What’s this tray for,” you asked in a nervous tone, not exactly used to speaking up around these two. While Junkrat seemed nice enough, he was erratic, and Roadhog was intimidating if not like a terrifying mother bear. 

Junkrat looked up, guilt splaying across his face as he nervously tried to put more of the salad on the other plate. “E-er, Roadhog said I gotta take care of ya’ so…” He began to push the tray he’d just filled towards you, looking almost as white as a sheet, and you had a feeling why. 

You crossed your arms and stared down at the mound of salad, quirking one eyebrow like your older brother used to do to you. In almost a perfect shadow, you rose your bad arm up and held up one finger, feeling it twitch awkwardly as you tried to keep your voice from shaking. “Those don’t look fair,” you stated, pointing down at the uneven piles of lettuce. The little jerk put more of it on your plate, and while you didn’t mind eating it, you were sure that Roadhog hadn’t exactly planned on Junkrat skipping out on it before having cake. 

Right on the dot, and Junkrat winced and a scowl coiled at his lips. He cursed under his breath, spitting angry words at what must have been you as he stabbed his fork into the pile on your plate and put it back on his, evening them out a bit. You could see Roadhog’s shoulders shaking in the corner of your eyes… this wasn’t so bad. They weren’t that bad. Sure Junkrat was frantic, didn’t know personal space, basically kidnapped you, smelled bad, and was very obviously not a good person. And sure Roadhog was massive, dangerous, hard to understand, way too strong, and extremely intimidating, but these two weren’t all that bad. 

Because they were also weird and theatrical when they weren’t blowing up buildings. You supposed it wouldn’t be that hard after all to be nice to them. And you wouldn’t be here for more than a day, and then you could leave and go home, tell your Mother about all the cake you ate while you were on your little adventure, then lay down like a content cat in the sun… right after your Mom killed you. 

The three of you ate in silence, and you had observed a few things while doing so. Firstly, Junkrat had zero manners. You figured he’d used the fork for your sake since most of his eating was with his fingers, and he’d managed to bend the fork halfway around itself out of pure refusal to eat his veggies. He spat when he spoke, talked with his mouth full, and wiped his fingers on the carpet. All that did for you was make you want to go take a shower and dump a bucket of soap into the entire room. The carpet had to be disgusting. 

On the other hand, Roadhog wasn’t too talkative, but you were beginning to be able to pick out when he was talking and when he was just breathing in that rough, heavy way he did. He had decent manners, at least trying to use the fork that seemed too small in his fingers, but he didn’t remove his mask. He had managed to push it up just enough to get food in his mouth, and regularly pushed it back down while he was chewing, all while fighting Junkrat on eating that cake he had set behind him. 

You sat with your tray, eating bits and pieces and trying to place a few fruits. You knew grapes, and you knew that the red things were watermelon, but the other three, a yellow, pulpy fruit and two that were probably also melons, were a mystery to you. That didn’t stop you from eating them happily, enjoying their flavors. The salad was good as well, with the usual lettuce, and a few tomatoes and carrots on top. It must have been a different type of lettuce from what you often ate, as it tasted more watery and had more crunch to it. The meat was most definitely sausage, though you weren’t sure how they’d gotten it into patty form. The only sausage that you’d had was in links. You supposed these were big city rations of some sort, so they were probably processed differently and the like but… still, you had to wonder. 

“There!” A clatter followed the exclamation and you looked over just in time to see Junkrat toss down his tray, jutting his chin out towards Roadhog, who had been cleaning his plate quietly the entire time. “I’m done, ya bastard, now gimme!” You turned to stare at the pair as Junkrat waved his arm in front of him, his body fidgeting like he was ready to lunge out and maul Roadhog. Roadie just sat there for a moment, poking around his plate with his fork before reaching behind him and dropping the tray of sweets in front of Junkrat. 

The Rat immediately snatched a cookie from the pile, stuffing it into his mouth and moaning like he’d not eaten in weeks. He giggled around the crumbs in his mouth and flopped back munching with delight. You, honestly, had never seen anyone so happy to eat a single cookie. You went back to finishing that sausage while Junkrat sat up, took another sweet and ate it, squirming and twitching all around. You were about to set your tray down beside his when a piece of white fluff was put smack in the middle of your plate. You glanced up to see Junkrat quickly turn away, a fork in his hand while the other was reaching for another cake. You looked back down at your own. 

It wasn’t something you were too sure about, actually. It looked like cake, but it didn’t look like any cake you’d ever seen before. It had a very light frosting on it that was now kind of stuck to the tray, and it looked very solid instead of light and fluffy. You picked up your fork and cut your fork into the cake, finding it oddly bouncy and hard to cut. It surely couldn’t be that bad, though you weren’t entirely confident in that statement. You popped the slice into your mouth, feeling it’s sweetness coat your tongue and make your eyes water. You weren’t exactly used to that much sugar. “W-what is this?” You turned and looked to Junkrat, who shrugged like the helpful person he was, and then to Roadhog. 

“Angel Food Cake,” he stated, or at least that’s what you assumed he had said. It sounded like words. You nodded and nervously took another bite, feeling like you were doing something wrong. How much sugar and flour and other expensive ingredients went into this? You honestly felt guilty eating such a big piece, but you did anyway to avoid seeming rude to Junkrat's generous offer, and went on trying the frosting, which Roadhog clarified was whipped cream. After finishing you set your tray down and watched Junkrat eat the last cookie, and you honestly couldn’t decide whether to laugh or be disgusted at how much sugar he’d just ingested. It certaintly explained his hyperactivity. 

After eating, Roadhog had picked up the trays and left the room again, leaving you alone with Junkrat, who was trying to coil up and burrow into his bedding like a mole might. Eventually he got comfortable, curling around facing you with his blonde hair a mess from rolling about. His eyes were wide, kind of just watching you. “Hey, y/n?” You glanced over at him and waited for him to continue. He had a kind of concerned expression about him, and he was strangely still despite all the twitching he seemed to normally do, and all the sugar he just had. “Why’d ya yell at me.” 

It was bluntly stated, and you were taken aback by the question. When had you yelled at him? Your mind scrambled to when you had possibly been yelling at him for anything he'd done in the last hour or so, but it latched onto the memory of you standing in the street screaming for him to stop. You bit your lip, feeling a faux hostility rise in the room, something you were surely just imagining. Junkrat didn’t seem the least bit bothered by it, just curious. “Well,” you muttered, “You’d just killed my neighbors for one, and two you were trying to kill the rest of the town and I wasn’t going to let that happen.” You nod to clarify your solidity on the subject and he gave a snort. You looked over to him again, but he had turned over, twitching now and then but otherwise remaining still. 

Roadhog returned not long after, and you could tell that the two were set into a ritual as Roadhog grabbed some clothes from the dresser and went into a room, you assumed a bathroom, to change. Junkrat had no similar manners and instead of walking off to change he threw off his shorts and sprawled out in his boxers, going about fiddling with his leg. You watched out of pure curiosity as he unhooked it from his thigh, that of which was only a stump, and then did the same to his arm. There was horrible chafing on the skin from the two false limbs, but you decided he didn’t need a second mother to tell him to take care of it. Roadhog was enough. 

Roadie returned, wearing a white shirt and a pair of pajama pants, plaid in pattern. He flopped down on the bed, and you saw Junkrat begin to scramble to burrow down in his own. There was a click, and the light was off, leaving you in the dark to bundle up in your own pile. After a few more thuds or creaks of readjustment, it all went quiet, and you were left to fall asleep on your own.


	7. Breakfast Mountain

The next morning started off with a huge boom erupting from somewhere inside the tiny room. You were jolted awake not only by the noise but by a few pieces of rubble from whatever had combusted smacking you in the face. You sat up as fast as you could to try and be ready for whatever the hell had happened, or was going to happen. Maybe the roof would fall, or the walls would collapse or there would be another bang somewhere else in the room. You were ready, totally ready. 

You reached up to rub your eyes and yawn, trying to wake yourself up to be just as prepared as you thought you should be. It was light in the room, and dust was flying around everywhere. Some smoke detector in the hallway was shrieking and the smell of fresh smoke floated on top of the room while you sat unaware on the floor, on your pile of blankets. Roadhog was sitting quietly on the bed, in his hands was a rough, charred looking book. He didn’t seem too shaken up by the bang at all. 

On the other side of the room, near the bathroom door, Junkrat interrupted your thoughts with another pop and a shriek of unhappiness. “No, no, no!” His shouting made your head throb and you had a feeling he’d just got back into the room otherwise you wouldn’t have been asleep that long. “Roadhog, I need more parts! This one blew up, bloody hell it was loud, but the stupid thing it didn’t even work right! Not enough fire, not enough gas, I need more power, a bigger battery, something bigger!” He was stumbling awkwardly towards the bed, where Roadhog seemed to be staring down at his book still. Junkrat hadnt been this fidgety since he’d been on that bike. His head jerked this way and that and his entire body shook like a small dog’s might. 

“Hey! Don’t just fuckin sit there, are ya’ listenin’ to me?! What do I pay ya’ for? Go get my shit while I fix this!” He reached out and went on tearing Roadhog’s book out of his hands and throwing it to the floor. You really hadn’t expected to ever see him this angry; he didn’t seem the angry type. He turned and paced back towards where he must have been making something or another, it sounded like a bomb. Roadhog gave a huffing laugh before standing up and taking a couple steps. He stopped at you, staring down at you for a moment before grunting and leaving the room. Or were those words… you really had thought you’d gotten better at deciphering them but you were second guessing yourself now. 

You rubbed your eyes again, trying to keep the sleep from them as you slowly stood yourself up. You felt dirty, between laying on those blankets, on the floor, and not changing your clothes or bathing. After a little wobbling to keep your balance, you decided to take a look at what exactly Junkrat was doing. Then again maybe it wasn’t such a good time to get close to him. He seemed pretty miffed, and you were concerned that he’d lash out at you like he did Roadhog. Just as a precaution, you made sure you had a clear path to the door, lingering momentarily on the thought of up and running, before turning back to watch the scrawny man. You couldn’t outrun those guards outside, your leg wouldn’t allow it. A sigh filled your lungs and you decided to keep your attention on the present. Junkrat was still muttering under his breath, grasping his shaky fingers around tiny bits and pieces on the floor and cradling them into his other arm. 

Maybe there was something you could help with? Honestly you weren’t too good at anything, but maybe you could provide a different, less experienced, point of view. “Um, good morning, Junkrat. What are you working on?” A good, polite start, though it seemed to scare the stuffing out of the other man. He jumped so hard he slowly tilted backwards and landed on his rear. He turned and looked wildly around the room with dilated orange eyes until he stopped and stared at you, opening his mouth as if to say a silent ‘oh’ of realization. 

He scrambled to put his gathered items in their own little pile, gently pushing them and nudging them into a stable mound, before turning around and doing a little shuffle. He was picking at his fingers nervously, their nails black and chipped, and a few places had scabs or scars, and a lot of red welts from burns. “E-er,” he winced like something had hit him, though you couldn’t see anything that could have. “G’mornin’, y/n!” He flashed a grin, but it seemed to be enough to make him happier as a whole. 

You smiled back, and his entire body brightened, his stance straightening a bit more and his hands stilling. You weren’t exactly sure why you smiling back at him made him so happy, but hey at least he wasn’t freaking out anymore. “What are you working on,” you repeated, since he seemed a bit dazed before he’d noticed you, so perhaps he hadn’t processed it all. You knew from experience what that was like; you were often that way in the mornings. Today, for some strange reason, you just had the sleep terrified right out of you. 

He gasped and whipped around, holding up one of the bits that had once been apart of something bigger and waving it around like crazy. “A bomb! A tiny one that’s supposed to light all that flammable junk on fire!” He dropped it and waved his hands in the air like he was weaving some sort of story with the smoke that still lingered. “Like the carpet!” He glanced down at the carpet where he’d been working, so you followed his stare… it was all whole, not too burnt at all. You’d have expected there to be a hole down to the metal flooring. 

“So, it didn’t work?” You looked back at the tall man, who was stretching up and cracking his lower back. He growled and went back to kneeling on the floor with a scowl on his face. 

“Nah,” he replied, looking quite unhappy with himself. You watched him in silence for a moment before crawling over the bed and sitting on the edge of the mattress to join him in his little workspace. You both were quiet for a few more moments until the door opened and Roadhog’s heavy breathing announced his presence. He joined you both and dropped a pile of scraps next to Junkrat, wires poking out and what looked like a heavy duty battery or two, the small kind they use to power older mechanical parts, like the glass tablets or those music boxes.. 

You weren’t exactly sure what else they were used for, since you hadn’t exactly been exposed to much technology, but you had a pretty decent idea. They were quite long lasting. If Junkrat was going to use that for a bomb… he’d have no trouble taking it from point A to point ‘explosion’. 

But what exactly was he going to use the bomb for? Concern furrowed your brow and you watched the man cackle with malicious excitement and snatch the pile of items from Roadhog, adding it to the pile he already had down. You took your attention off of the little rat and drew it over to Roadhog, who sat down next to the smaller man and reached out to pat his head. He was oddly affectionate, in a weird… not so obvious way. While many people might think hugs and kisses were affectionate, Roadhog seemed to convey his kind of affection well enough with simple pats and ruffles. You weren’t sure where to place it, really. It was somewhere between caretaker and mother, or… was it mother and brother? 

You found yourself staring into the mask of the big brute, who had noticed you staring and decided to stare right on back. You winced and dropped your gaze, murmuring a sorry and threading your fingers together. He huffed and turned his attention back to the hunched over body of Junkrat, prodding his side with one massive finger to get his attention. 

They went off in a conversation you couldn’t quite figure out the meaning to. You tried your best to figure out what exactly Roadhog was saying back in a short puff or grunt, but it was too short and mangled for you to get any context from it. Junkrat wasn’t being descriptive in the least either. 

“What’s it?” Grunt. “Oh, roight, that’s inna couple days from now, ain’t it?” Grunt “show” grunt grunt. “Crap, I did, didn’ I? An’ ya’ said that we gotta have that uh… what’s it called again.” Grunts and some laughter. “No, ya bastard not a debrief! Ya’ know what I mean. It’s tomorrow, right?” A nod. 

You stared bluntly at the two of them, not exactly understanding what the hell was going on other than the statement of the next two days and tomorrow. “What’s going on?” You stared at them quietly as they turned their attention back towards you, and Junkrat seemed to jump onto the question with a ready answer and all the excitement in the world. 

“We’re goin’ on an adventure, Sheila,” he announced, flying up from his work and snatching your arm in his. Within a second you were pulled violently around the bed and dragged towards the door. You stumbled to a stop, bumping into the backside of the taller man as he threw the door open, and out into the hallway you both went. Roadhog had stood and was training further behind you, though you had a sneaking suspicion that he was going to have to move a bit faster to keep up with the two of you. 

Junkrat was already dragging you through the common’s area that you’d been captured and interrogated in the night before. You were nearly in a painful jog to keep up with Junkrat’s hard, limping gate, but you managed to take a side glance into the room and spot a few different soldiers, and… that girl. The blue skinned woman, sitting on a sofa poised with perfect elegance and her fingers holding a professional looking pen. Your bustling movement gathered her attention, and you quickly bowed your head away, hoping she didn’t notice it was you. 

Apparently that didn’t help a single bit. She called after Junkrat in a sharp tone, and you looked up at him for a reply, hoping that maybe he’d stop and defend you for still being here or at least make sure that the lady knew that you were here for a reason. You really should have expected him to laugh like he did, howling happily and nearly taking off in a run down the hall, hooting back at you to hurry up and ‘make a bolt for it’.

You felt your heart drop. He didn’t know you couldn’t run. Sure, you could force yourself to but your knee… “Jamison Fawkes!” The cold shout came from just behind you, making you flinch at the tone. The image of a hand lashing out and grabbing you by the neck, dragging you to the floor burst into your forethought and you quickly shot forwards, ducking away from any grasping fingers you were positive were ready to strangle the life out of you. You scrambled off into the hallway that Junkrat had vanished into, seeing the rooms and walls flashing past you as you followed the sound of crazy cackling further down the way.

You had no idea how far you went exactly; all you knew was that it had a metal floor and you were leaning all your weight against Junkrat, your lower right leg spasming and cramping as your knee replacement retaliated to your extraneous activity. The air smelled humid and your heart hurt your ribs every time it beat.

There was a silence where you both caught your breath. After a few minutes you felt your heart slow, so you slowly leaned off of Junkrat to try and test your leg. You took a step, and felt the calf cramp, your foot muscles clenching and your toes crackling as they twitched. Your knee joint felt solid for only a moment before you nearly ate the floor, if not for the arm that quickly caught you around the stomach, stopping your fall immediately. You yelped and wheezed as the air was pressed out of your lungs, and the arm jabbed painfully against your lower ribs. You hung there for only a moment longer before you were straightened up and pulled tight against Junkrat’s side; you hadn’t been sure who it was to start, but then your eyes started watering from the intense smell of ashes. It was just...disgusting. Your weight against him, you found your footing again and managed to balance instead of toppling over again, wanting to get away from the smell as soon as possible. It reminded you too much of that fire in town, and the fire back at your old home. Maybe that’s what made you so uncomfortable around these men?

No matter that at the moment, all you knew was that you felt like you’d made a huge mistake. One little run and already you were ready to collapse. You would have if he hadn’t been there to grab you. Fear made the gratitude you felt taste bitter, the memories of many of your childhood friends not wanting to be around you at first because you couldn’t play with them, or making fun of you and taking your things because they knew you couldn’t catch them or run after. Your brother had talked to their parents, and after that they apologized, and you were allowed into their games, though you were still left out most of the time. Now days you had no fear of that, since you had become widely accepted in your community, with even a couple friends you spent the days with sometimes. 

Now was not like those times. Junkrat wasn’t one of the Ilios people, and the thought of him knowing one of your weaknesses sickened you. Did he put any of it together in his head? If you asked for him to let you go, would he say no because he knew you couldn’t get away on your own without him letting you? If you ran would he just wait and then come after you when you’d fallen? Your stomach churned and you felt a hot white sear of panic run through you. Dear god, was he clever enough to think any of it through? 

You nervously looked up at him, wincing as you noticed him staring down at you in return, his eyebrows furrowed. He definitely noticed… what was he thinking? He watched you for a moment longer before letting you go, leaving you to stumble and keep your balance on a pained leg. It held, and you slowly took a few steps, assuring yourself it was okay now. 

“Ya’ ain’t gonna pass out on me, are ya’ Sheila?” His joking tone surprised you into a shocked look, meeting his amused eyes with suspicion. He didn’t seem to think a thing of it. “You look like you’re gonna lose your lunch...breakfast. Oh, crap! Right, it’s time for grub!” You stared at him with an astonished expression; you really didn’t want to have this guys train of thought. It seemed way too chaotic. 

He started limping ahead of you, and all you could do was follow him, taking the time to stare at your surroundings. You were in what looked to be a very small cafeteria, like a miniature version of the one in your old school. It had various fold out tables and multiple people eating at them, some alone and others in small groups. The far wall had a buffet style counter, filled with different plates of food, some more empty than others. You and Junkrat were heading up to a tower of trays, much like the ones you’d eaten off of the night before. He reached up onto the top of it, it was rather tall since it was on a table as well, but it was only about eye level to you. Still, Junkrat passed you a tray with a snicker; the trays were collarbone level to him… slouching. 

You glared up at him, finding him to be grinning down at you. “What?!” You demanded, and he just cackled at your flustered expression before turning around and skipping immediately to the pancakes, demanding they be piled on his plate. You took your time, nervously shuffling down the line and feeling the anxiety of asking for food from the complete stranger behind the counter. You had to or you wouldn’t have any food, you decided, before nervously speaking up for some of the fruit and the toast. The jam, you found, came in little packets, and was more like jelly than anything. It disappointed you but you had no time to complain as Junkrat was already on his way to a table. 

You followed, sitting down across from him, your back to the counter and his back to the door, the way you liked it. You’d much rather be able to see who was coming in and out of those doors, just in case that woman showed up in a rage. You went about spreading your jelly-jam over your toast, that of which wasn’t hot but more luke-warm. You ate while Junkrat drown his pancakes, and a few waffles, with syrup. The fact that he’d just mixed the two sugary breakfast foods kind of bothered you. They weren’t even in two separate piles, just all in one mountain. Whatever made him happy, you supposed. 

The two of you took your first bites in silence before Junkrat seemed to light up, and you could tell he was about to go off about something by the way he struggled to stuff the food in his mouth into his cheek so he could talk. You scooted back a bit to prepare for a spray of food bits. “Today’s gonna be great, Sheila,” he muffled as you had expected him to. His bushy eyebrows furrowed and he held up a finger, wagging it back and forth before bashing it point down onto the table, “First things first,” with every S he spit more food out. “I’m gonna take ya’ down to the ruins n’ show ya all the cool junk they got down there!” He was quick to add, “And we’re gonna blow stuff up.” 

You stared at him for a moment, trying to see if he was serious. He was going to take you down to the ruins, outside, in the open. Not only that, but he just so happened to assume that you were okay with him using explosives around you, after what happened. You frowned at your toast; he must have noticed your leg and decided he didn’t have to worry? The thought that they were already sizing you up was chilling. Either way, you nodded, keeping your eyes on your toast, as if you looked up you feared he would see the plot to run home in your eyes. 

You ate in silence, eventually lifting your gaze to look at him as he went on about some sort of mechanical nonsense, or maybe it was about some movie he saw. You couldn’t make heads or tails of it, to be honest. After a while, Roadhog joined you at the table, eating a hearty breakfast compared to either you or Junkrat. You both sat and listened to Junkrat for the remainder of your Breakfast. 

There was something you were noticing. Junkrat seemed to treat you like a new kind of toy, and although you couldn’t solidify the thought with fact, you had a feeling in your gut that this wasn’t how he was all the time; happy and loopy. It was the kind of thing that a kid was like to a new puppy. Nice and snuggly and cooing, but after a while that thing wasn’t new anymore and they didn’t treat it like it was a baby anymore. 

You weren’t sure you wanted to know what Junkrat was like normally, especially after that burst of irritation he had that morning. It was the most terrifying emotion you’d seen him express, the close second being that malicious, grinning look he’d had while destroying your neighbor’s house, and injuring, or killing, your neighborhood. You’d much rather him be maniacal and spastic than angry and violent. Angry and violent was much harder to calm down and stop. 

“Aw’roight!” The heavily accented shout jolted you out of your thoughts, turning to stare at the man in front of you. He was scrambling to get out from the table, that of which had benched seating. He nearly fell as his foot got caught, but he managed to stumble upright and throw his tray into the ‘dirty pile’ near the garbage. You stared down at your own, and the sudden nerves in your stomach clenched. You weren’t exactly hungry anymore. Roadhog, next to you, reached over and took your tray, turning and leaving your side to dump them out. You were too anxious to remember to call out a thanks to him, as it was just now sinking in how screwed you were. 

You were going outside, which wasn’t so bad. With Junkrat, who wouldn’t let you run, and would catch you if you did, to use whatever crazy explosives he had come up with. What were you going to blow up? He had said you were going to the ruins, so you hoped to god it would just be sand bags or a wall; you couldn’t get the image of your bleeding friends from your mind. Please don’t be people. 

You watched as the lean guy hurriedly limped back over, a wild look manifesting itself in his amber eyes. That was the look you were afraid of. “Time ta’ go, Sheila! You’re gonna love it!” His hand wrapped around your upper arm and he heaved you up off of your seat, pulling you into a stand. He hardly let you get your balance as you were pulled along behind him, spending most of that time trying to keep your balance rather than keeping up with him. He didn’t let you fall behind an inch with his iron grip. You swept past the hallway you’d ran down, and in a moment you were crossing through the commons, emptier than before, and out into the sunshine. 

You faltered, nearly crashing into the back of Junkrat as you suddenly sloped downwards on the ramp exit. Luckily you managed to catch yourself as your feet hit the ground and you were left panting next to Junkrat, who was looking horribly impatient as he stared at you, waiting for you to catch your breath and releasing your arm. He nearly glared, actually, his lips pursed in a straight line and his entire body jittering as he locked his beady eyes on you… It wasn’t your fault you weren’t in shape like he was. All the same you didn’t want to keep him waiting or make him unhappy with you. You straightened up and reached out to grab his wrist, feeling him shudder against the touch as you nodded to him.

You’d never witnessed someone so strange in your life, though it was becoming very clear that he wasn’t this happy giddy thing you’d first assumed he was when you arrived at the airship. You were beginning to ache more than ever to be home, away from this stressful place.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this is awkward or anything! It's very much a filler chapter as I had to force myself to get it done. It's a very busy time of year for me (Halloween and School both) so my motivation is being split so many different ways. The next chapter should be more fulfilling and have more going on! This was more of 'Junkrat's not always a goofball' kind of thing c:


	8. Belt Loops and Loop Holes

****

His entire body shivered, and he could feel that shiver rattle right down his spine. He felt like he was sitting on one of those really big, fluffy chairs in the middle of a shopping center. Massage chairs? His brow furrowed in sudden concern that he got the name wrong, and he slowly came to the conclusion that he was as correct as he could be, so he proceeded forwards once more, having not realized he stopped as he thought about the old memory. How long ago had he and Roadhog busted into that mall place just to see what they had, and what was so great about city places? And boy had they found out what was so good in city places. Junkrat had left that places with arms full of crazy tech stuff, some of it may have accidentally been broken, and all of it had been stolen. Roadhog had left with his arms filled with what Junkrat had accepted to be Roadhog’s outlet; plushies of some kind. Kinda cute, if you asked him.

Everyone had an outlet, even Junkie himself. 

A cackle hissed through his clenched teeth as he thought of the wonderful explosions he’d be sharing with his new pal. “Dammit,” he suddenly cursed, remembering he had his friend with him at that moment. He’d completely forgot. She was staring at him when he turned around to check on her. Staring at him like he was some kind of freak again. She’d not stared at him like that this morning before breakfast, and she hadn’t stared at him like that the night before. Well, she had, but not this badly, not like he was dragging her along by a chain cackling like a mad man, ready to bite her pretty little head off. He didn’t like it.

Junkrat’s smile faded as he realized that maybe he was doing something wrong? He wasn’t talking to her, so if he just started telling her what he was thinking, maybe she’d catch on and be happier and realize that what they were doing, and where they were going, was fun? Eyebrows crinkled and lips coiled in a grimace as he thought, he continued to limp forwards on his unstable gate. Yeah. He’d do that. 

“So, Sheila,” he said slowly, trying to keep his voice from cracking into a higher octave so he could show her that he was totally in control. There was no reason to be afraid or unhappy. 

Another shudder passed through him as he walked, and he fought back a happy laugh, trying to shrug off the nerves and adrenaline. “Have ya’ ever blown anythin’ up b’fore?” He twisted himself around, stumbling a little as he caught his balance and began walking backwards, wanting to keep the conversation up instead of hurrying ahead without her. She was breathing hard as she tried to answer, and the more he watched her the more he realized that she was limping worse than he was. He slowed down to a stop until he was shifting in place, waiting for her to catch her breath next to him. She had one hand up, as if ready to catch herself from falling. She was swaying as she gulped for air like some sad little fish. 

If a light bulb had gone off above his head he wouldn’t have been surprised. “‘Ere, Sheila, lemme help ya’,” he announced with pride, and before she could even think to thank him he had ducked around her and hooked her under her armpits like a child. After a quick toss up, she was on his shoulders, and he shifted slightly to readjust his balance. 

“Junkrat what the hell!” she squealed, and he glanced up at her with a grin spread from cheek to cheek, trying to see her face. He really couldn’t tell by her tone of voice if she was scared or what. He managed to see her when she awkwardly leaned forward, trying to balance herself while being up so high. She didn’t look as spooked as she did shocked. Had he done something wrong? Hell, he was only trying to help so if she was going to be all ungrateful, she could fall on her arse instead of take the ride. He had no clue why anyone would refuse a ride on someone else’s shoulders. He took rides on Roadhog constantly, and bloody hell they were the best, especially when you had a bad leg and a prosthetic that chafed. 

And she had one of those; a bad leg. He wasn’t sure why, but it was a lot worse than his was. 

He continued forwards, trying to steady his walk a bit so it wasn’t all that bumpy of a ride, and as he started down a couple steps he heard her speak up, now in a calmer tone. “How tall are you?” How tall was he? He glanced up at her, and she was looking around at all the things that were usually way above her head. How tall was he…

His eyebrows furrowed again and he locked his jaw in thought. Well, if he had nearly knocked his head on that half closed hanger door the other day, and the darn thing was half shut, and four meters up- Roadhog had measured him for paperwork, so why was he hurting his head with stupid math?

“‘Bout a bit under two meters up,” he hooted, giving a wide grin up towards Y/n. And that was… “Or like six foot five or somethin’ around it. I saw Roadie puttin’ it down on a piece a’ paper for the Boss cause he’s from the US.” Pride swelled in his chest as he remembered all that, as his memory wasn’t exactly the best. While he’d at one time had to come up with calculations for his land mines, he’d long since forgotten those numbers. Six foot and a half. That was apparently quite a bit, and Roadhog was a lot more than that. 

Roadhog was almost a head taller than Junkrat, but that exact number wasn’t something that Junkie remembered at all, and he hadn’t even watched Roadie fill out his own paperwork so he hadn’t gotten the chance to see it in ink. At some point Roadhog may have mentioned his exact height, but it was probably a long time ago. “What the hell, why are you so tall?” He fidgeted and looked up at her again as her tone switched from curious to a playful demanding, his pace slowing as his mind was preoccupied for the time being. That was playful, wasn’t it? Her train of thought had to be screwed to all hell. What kind of a brain mixes so many emotions together?

Girls were bloody complicated. 

“Dunno,” he replied shortly, giving a smug look up towards her, “Because I’m better than you!” His heart suddenly squeezed and he waited that half second before she answered like he was waiting forever. He didn’t want her to get mad at him again. Her yelling had been extremely unpleasant that first time. Junkrat didn’t like anyone yelling at him like he’d done something terribly wrong; he didn’t like getting scolded like a child. Sure getting screamed at and cursed at, people calling him a monster was fine, hell cause it was true! But when the yelling hit that personal note of disappointment in him, it wasn’t good. It made it hard to have a good time when he knew someone was disappointed at him. Even strangers. 

…”You’re a jerk!” She was giggling, and he let out a slow breath of relief. So teasing was okay, right? He felt like he was tip-toeing around a minefield trying to make a new friend. He’d not exactly made a new friend in a while. Every friend he’d made since he could remember last was made by mutual business and tolerance rather than actual enjoying his company. Except for Roadhog. Roadie was his first mate, and he always would be. 

A set of about six steps sent them into the big open pit that was the center of the Ilios ruins, and Junkrat was quick to hurry towards the back wall, making sure to duck under a walkway that the Talon lackeys had set up. Didn’t wanna hit Y/n’s head on it. There was a murmur coming from behind him, and though he usually didn’t notice people talking behind his back, today it was particularly bothersome. He mentally shrugged it off, though he almost did so physically before remembering it would probably disturb the girl. 

He awkwardly let go of one of her legs to reach down and try to pry open one of the many storage boxes that the Talon agents had put back there. They were strewn around randomly, some in piles, others put precariously on slanted bricks. Junkrat heaved an annoyed sigh and muttered curses under his breath. “Come on, I know they put ‘em back here. They can’t hide ‘em from me,” he murmured, crouching down next to another box to try and dig his nails under it to pull it open. 

As he did so, the weight of Y/n slid off of his shoulders and he glanced back to see her trying to balance. He trusted that she could manage by herself, and went back to his work at getting the damned box open. Her hand touched his shoulder a couple times in what he assumed was her trying not to fall on that knee of hers, before she nearly slapped his arm and sent him jerking into the air. His heart flew like a trapped rats. “B-bloody hell, Sheila,” he shrieked, whipping around to look at her with his head spinning. What the hell was that for? It hadn’t exactly hurt but he’d never expected a girl to actually hit him. 

That was more or less a lie. Lots of women back in Australia had hit like men. And boy did he get hit a lot, but they weren’t girls. They were Junkers. Y/n was a girl, and very obviously so. She wasn’t all hard-faced, and she acted more like a lady than any other Australian girl he’d ever met. 

So he waited for her to speak, staring at her as she looked at him with her brow creased all annoyed and her lips flattened in an impatient frown. When she had his attention she seemed to brighten, and he had a feeling that all those taps hadn’t been her finding her balance. Wasn’t his fault. 

She limped heavily over towards a box that had a faded out flammable logo on it, before turning towards him with a sheepish smile. “This is probably it.” She looked uncomfortable again, but Junkrat pushed that out of his mind. She was probably just nervous, hell he was always anxious before he blew the hell out of stuff. It was great! He grinned over at her and quickly stood himself up, feeling the joint on his pegleg creek as he did so. Perhaps it was time for a tune-up. He’d work on it on the way back to the base. 

Oh, Y/n could come to the base with him and Roadie! His steps stopped and he stared at the box, feeling a jittery feeling run through him. She could go on all sorts of heists with he and Roadhog, and he’d show her that it wasn’t bad and there was nothing wrong with him! It was fun, so how could there be anything wrong? She’d definitely have fun. 

She was looking at him with one of those frowns again. He hurried towards the box and flopped onto the ground in front of it. “Y-yeah! Man, this is gonna be great, Sheila, you just wait!” He turned and hoped to see her smiling, but she looked like she was sour again. His own smile faded and he gave a soft huff, concentrating on clawing open the box and cracking half of the lid off of it. Inside were indeed lines of explosives. His face lit up and he leaped up from the ground, reaching down to grab at the edges of the box. 

“E-er, Junkrat, are you going to be able to carry all that?” Was he going to be able to lift it? He looked at the pounds upon pounds of dynamite, and he grinned. His immediate instinct was to show off, of course, and he gave a grunt as he lifted with his back; not how you were supposed to do it but lifting with his legs was unstable. He heaved it up against his chest, holding it around it’s edges and taking a moment to readjust it against his hips so it was comfortable. He could see her staring at him. Why was she staring so much? 

“Piece a’ cake! Let’s get goin’ so we can get a head start!” He smiled down at her before starting out towards the far end of the ruins, away from the airship but closer to town. She had looped her hand around his belt. At first he’d thought it rather weird and unnecessary but he soon found that whenever it tugged it meant he needed to slow down, or she’d probably fall or get hurt. After a bit, he found her pace and the two of them made their way to the back wall of the ruins where it appeared to be partially buried under a fallen chunk of the cliff side. Whether or not it was being excavated, Junkrat honestly didn’t care. Nobody was around at the moment, so he was going to take that as permission to do what he wanted.  

He dropped the box without much caution at all, watching as the lid clattered off onto the ground. “This is gonna be a riot,” he announced, glancing back at Y/n as she let go of his belt and steadied herself, she seemed a lot more balanced than the last time, at least. On the other hand, she also looked nervous, eyeing him and the box warily. Skepticism from others, it was the best reason to prove his stuff, he decided, puffing out his chest and spinning around quickly on his peg, digging into the box eagerly. 

He picked out pieces of this and that, hurrying to the wall to jam them into the dirt. He made row after row of poking out dynomite, his mind flying across the patterns. After all, if there was a group of five, and a group of eight, with three between to connect them, the fuses had to be braided in a way that it wouldn’t burn out completely before all the fuses got enough light to them. If there was only one piece of a fuse, it could burn off the one side and the whole plan would be bust. 

As he concentrated on his work, it came to his attention that perhaps ten solid minutes went by as he stood back and admired the product. Sure, great, a giant detonator shape, at least what he thought to be one, made out of dynamite sticks. It was his usual stuff, nothing special, only a little pride was required for his own personal praise. His own personal praise wasn't important right now. Was she watching him? Did she see how good he’d done, did she see his engineering? 

He felt a wide, delighted grin turn up the sides of his face at the thought, and he hurriedly whipped around in excitement for any of her praise, hoping with all his heart that she liked it. 

She was gone. 

His heart tore.  _Where_ had she gone? 

She couldn’t have gone far, she didn’t have stamina. She didn’t have balance. 

“Ah, bloody hell, we’re on’a cliff, sheila,” he gasped, his real hand coming up and slapping onto the side of his face. And if Widowmaker found out he’d lost the girl he was supposed to be ‘taking care of’ as of last night...

“Son of a… gun. Sheila?!” He hurried off, calling for her in a crackling, panicked voice. She couldn’t leave, that wasn’t the deal, not at all. She wouldn’t break the deal, would she? She wasn’t like that...was she? He'd had a deal with her, she couldn't have broken it, that wasn't how deals worked. She would come back, she was just lost, she'd gone off after something shiny or sparkly or shimmery or something. 

That's certaintly what had happened. He just had to find her. 

“Y/n?!” 


	9. Never Corner an Animal

The grass swished around you as you sat on the edge of the ruins, the salty ocean breeze giving you some space to think. You had to clear your head, or you’d make a poor decision, one that could possibly put an end to you as a whole. You were in a dangerous spot right now, with two international criminals, and some strange, violent organization. 

And yet there were only two very clear options, despite the circumstances, and you knew you had to choose now, while you were off away from Junkrat. You wouldn’t get any other chance to go home, and at the same time this was your chance to go do something with your life. 

You could get up and hurry to Yaya’s, have her hide you until Junkrat and Roadhog stopped looking for you, then run home before dark. Your mother would cry and scold you, all while hugging you tightly and never letting you go. You’d be babied by your loving brother and your father would stand protectively behind you with his big hands on your shoulders. You’d be back at home, safe, normal home, but the thought of that sent a twist through your gut. You had been safe and normal all your life, babied and protected and never let to see the world. These guys, Junkrat and Roadhog, were international criminals. They had seen it all, and they were talking like you were going with them when they left. You’d never see your family again if you went with them, and you’d never have an easy life in a hammock with fresh jam and bread. 

Instead you’d have hard bread with cups of jelly and sour juice for breakfast. You’d be surrounded by criminals and even mistaken for one if they got caught. You could end up in prison, you could end up dead anyway, blown up in one of Junkrat’s mysterious room bombs or caught in a firefight of some sort. You could end up dead in Tokyo, Chicago, Berlin, London, or even somewhere in the tropics if they ever went there. If you went with them you could die, but would they come after you and kill you if you left? Did you even want to go back to being sheltered again? Your mother would surely never let you out of the neighborhood again. 

Were they...looking for you? Your family...or the two criminals? 

Your head had began to throb at all the conflicting thoughts, all the what-ifs and worries. Somewhere in them you heard heavy footsteps and a chain rattling off behind you, and a distant call of your name, over and over again in a high pitched yowl. If you were going to leave, of course you had to go now. Anxiety was settling in your stomach and you quickly stood up, turning to leave. You had to go now. This was crazy, how could you even think to stay here with those crazy people, they were criminals! They’d killed your neighbors and thousands of other people. You turned and scrambled a few steps forwards, hearing a wordless shriek sound from behind you, and the scraping of your good foot as it slid off of the edge of the cliff, the grass having been slick with the ocean mist from the morning, and your entire body jerked to the side, your eyes widening as you began to fall. 

“Sheila?! Sheila, no!” You turned your head and just ahead of you came the weasel-like form of Junkrat, who rounded the corner just second before you’d slipped. He shouted in a high pitched tone and there was the rustle of metal before three nails dug into your side, tearing your clothes and scratching your skin as you were jerked back to safety.

Your head hit the grass with a crack and you froze up on instinct, feeling the shock locking your limbs. The heavy steps had grown near, and after a few moments of horror, you realized you were staring up and Junkrat, who was on his hands and knees, leaning over you and staring down at you with wide, dilated amber eyes. 

You stared back with your own confused gaze, and he seemed to realize that you were back in your own mind. As soon as he knew that, he threw himself away from you and seemed to combust, like firecrackers were going off in his lungs and he just had to shout and… scold you. 

“What the bloody hell were ya’ thinkin’, huh?! Standin’ on the edge ov’a cliff like that- ya coulda fell, and ya’ _did_! Ya’ fell, and then what would I’va done if Roadie hadn’t been all quick like that?!” His voice rose and fell in chains of stress and adrenaline, cracking here and there. He was moving quickly, his leg squeaking as he paced this way and that, his fingers digging into his scalp and pulling on what little hair he had left like he was going to tear it out in frustration. He turned and looped around, going in a figure eight or a circle or just random lines, pacing this way and that as he yammered on about how dumb you were and something about how he worried. 

Roadhog eventually put a hand out and placed it square on Junkrat’s head, ruffling his hair and pulling him over for a pat on the back, Junkrat’s babbling slowly ebbed off into silence. He looked as shaken up as you did, perhaps even more so. He was shaking violently and watching you as you got to your hands and knees to begin to stand, wobbling a little. You swore it was just a little but the next thing you knew, Junkrat had gripped your wrists and began dragging you towards him and Roadhog, away from the cliff. You followed, unable to do much else. His blackened fingernails were dug firmly into your skin, and his hands, though they twitched and shook, were strong. 

He guided you to the safety of solid ground, pulling you away from your home. You glanced back at the cliff, seeing off in the distance, the other way down the foothill you stood on, was Ilios. You were stuck here. You turned and stared up at Junkrat with a sudden, unintended distaste, and the moment you locked eyes with him, he flinched and his face screwed up into a concerned, confused grimace. He turned and glanced at Roadhog, before tightening his grip on you and returning his gaze to your face, as if examining you. He leaned in like he couldn’t see well enough, locking eyes with you and squinting hard. What was he trying to do? 

You unintentionally jerked away from him, feeling a sudden prey response to his nearness and grip. You got as far as your elbows extended, but he was still holding you sternly around your wrists and refusing to let go. Frustration began to bubble up in your stomach and all your worries and concerns flared up in the back of your throat like a bitter bile. You jerked forwards and jammed your shoulder into his diaphragm, and sending the wind whooshing out of him in the form of a shout. He swayed, and his grip tightened, his nails digging into your wrists. “S-sheila, what the hell?!” He was laughing, looking down at you in a faint amusement. 

What, did he think this was some kind of joke?! “I’m not your stupid pet,” you heard yourself scream, feeling all that warm anger rising through your blood. His small smile turned to shock and he dropped your hands so fast it was like you’d burned him. You would have stopped the moment he let you go, but you were already on a roll. “I don’t know what gave you, or that stupid group you’re with, the permission to just decide to kill me or kidnap me, but I want to go home. Back to normal!” You stomped your foot like a kid and Junkrat winced so hard he lost his balance and backed up. 

“I don’t want to be out here with you destroying the ancient ruins for no reason, I don’t want to be chased by some creepy blue woman, and I don’t want to leave Ilios in your stupid airship. I smell _horrible_ , I smell like smoke- _like you_! And I’m tired of being pat on the head and cooed like some new puppy you found.” You ended up shouting, and you hardly raised your voice. “I’m exhausted, my leg hurts, and my lungs are raw because all you do is drag me around like a new toy, Junkrat! I’m going home!” 

You felt like some whining child. 

Apparently Junkrat didn’t think so. All of that seemed to nail him to the spot. He was staring at you with beady eyes, his mouth slightly open and his eyebrows furrowed. The definition of astonished. He twitched and fidgeted violently, to the point that Roadhog had to calm him down with a hand on the shoulder. You waited for him to process it and answer. 

He did process it, his face coming to a disappointed realization and his shoulders falling, but there wasn’t an answer to it. So you turned, and started limping away, feeling your heart beating violently in your chest. You lifted your eyes to stare down at Ilios. Just a walk away and you were home. 

You couldn’t wait to be ho- “Oi, ya’ little bastard!” You were about ten yards away when Junkrat seemed to come to a conclusion about how to react, and within a second you were dragged back by another piercing hook, the nails creating puncture wounds in your hip, through the waist of your jeans. You cried out in pain as you were dragged back towards them along the ground, coming to a full stop at Roadhogs feet with Junkrat leaning over you, his face a hard scowl. 

You were going to die. He was going to kill you because you were leaving, those were the rules, and you knew it. Die or stay with them, that’s what choice you’d had. 

“That wasn’t part of our deal, sheila,” came the growl, and you winced away from him, quickly averting your gaze down at the grass, to anything but the death looking you square in the face. 

“The deal was that I gave ya a choice, and it was die or don’t, and _you_ didn’t choose, so _I_ chose for ya’. And if you ask me, I was being pretty god damned generous.” He knelt and you shuddered in disgust at the smokey smell he had on him. His voice had grown deep and threatening, and you felt a single finger jabb into your collarbone. “So you’re stayin’ with us, ya ain’t goin out there back to ya stupid house to die.” 

Go home and die? You went from terrified to slightly less terrified, slightly more confused. “W-why would I die if I went home?” You voice was quiet and you stared up at the intense amber eyes of Junkie, who was now looking down at you with a hard annoyance. 

“Cause you’d be a loose end even more than ya were to start with,” Junkrat growled, jamming his finger into your collarbone again. You slapped at his hand and whined, a child at heart. He fidgeted, and you could see that boylike need to jam his finger into your arm again just to tease and taunt you. He appeared to refrain. “So Widowmaker and the Boss would have ta send people out and kill ya whole family, probably.” His tone had settled back to a higher pitch, but he still looked irritated. 

You risked a movement, and Roadhog was quick to crack a foot over your shoulder, not hard enough to harm it, but just enough that it ached and pinned you to the spot. Junkrat’s entire body seemed to rev to life again and he leaped to his feet, flailing one hand at Roadhog. The message was clear enough, you supposed. ‘Let her up’. The foot lifted and you sat up with a groan. The hook slide back to where it hung at Roadhog’s side, and you slowly began to stand, struggling to find your balance as you tested your knee. Junkrat was watching you intently before he noticed you giving him a questioning look. He dismissed it with a nervous shrug, shifting on his foot and peg as he watched you take a few test steps, tense as ever. Your knee held as you put more weight on it, better now from when you were completely pulled off of them by that hook. 

So you stuffed your hands in your pockets and winced when the denim rubbed against the shallow gashes on your hip. You fought yourself to not glare at Roadhog. “So you’re blackmailing me,” you muttered, kicking the dirt as your thoughts went back to how you were kept here, alive, away from your very much alive family, and if you left then you and your family would die. 

Junkrat gave a nervous mutter of some nonsense under his breath before hurrying to your side, keeping a bit of his distance. “We ain’t, but the boss is.” He took another side step to distance himself, and you supposed it was better than having your cheek against his ribs while he dragged you around by the waist. 

And yet he’d mentioned the Boss again. Apparently to Junkie, this guy didn’t have any other name but ‘the Boss’. You supposed it made him sound all the more threatening, but it was kind of unnecessary in your personal opinion. Why not Mr. Whatever his name was. Or her? You couldn’t remember hearing Junkrat specify a gender, and if you had you’d not noticed it as important at the time. The three of you walked, back to the airship as the hard truth began to sink like a stone in your stomach. You were stuck here, whether you liked it or not. 

A hand grabbed your arm, a gentle, hesitant hand. You glanced down and saw black fingernails and sooty, calloused skin, and you followed it up the arm to Junkrat, who was giving you a wide grin; you found it extremely inappropriate. “Think of it this way,” he said, seeming to brighten up. “You get ta’ come on all sorts of heists with Roadie and I!”

“And maybe you can get him t’shower,” came the clear growl from Roadhog, just behind you two. “Civilly.” You turned and stared back at the bigger man, feeling confusion flood through you. Was bathing Junkrat not civil? 

Wait, “I am not bathing him like some kind of kid,” you gasped, and a blush found it’s way to your cheeks. That would include seeing parts of anyone you had no intention of seeing, ever. 

This comment, however, seemed to tickle Junkrat to a point that it made you uncomfortable. He shrieked with laughter, and your whole squad had to stop as he dropped to his knees and held his stomach, wheezing for air. He cackled for a few more seconds before making an effort to get his breath back so he could talk. “First, I ain’t takin’ a bath, they’re awful,” he spat, grinning like a wild man. “Secondly, Y/n, don’t go lyin’ to me. You’d love bein’ in charge of washin up my-,” he shouted in a sudden shock as Roadhogs hand flew out and knocked him over, cutting off his sentence. You, personally, were glad for that. You didn’t want to hear what the rest of that lewd comment was. 

After Junkrat stood back up, the three of you continued to walk back, you in a bit better of a mood thanks to Junkrat’s joking around, but the sorrow that you couldn’t go home still cut deep. Junkrat didn’t seem to notice. The entire way back into the airship, he joked and cackled, making fun of Roadhog and even, at one point, making Roadhog so tired of his taunting, that he lifted him up and threw the lanky australian over his shoulder to get him to stop jumping around like a nutjob. 

After all that, the three of you stepped inside and you decided to lag behind to make sure you were going the right way, following Junkrat and Roadhog to their room. As you began walking through the commons, you heard Roadhog grunt something, and Junkrat, who had been put down earlier, stopped in his tracks. “Right now?” You approached as Junkrat seemed to shift uncomfortably. Roadhog didn’t say anything else, just ruffled Junkie’s hair before the two of them started walking again. Junkrat glanced back to make sure you were still with them before lagging just behind Roadie as well. 

What was right now? You followed the two in confusion, though you decided it would probably not be the best thing to ask. Junkrat looked ready to jump out of his skin. So you were silent, doing your best to keep up with the pace and not faultering too bad. That was until you passed up the pair’s door, and kept going. You nearly fell as you realized you weren’t going inside, and tripped over your feet to hurry back to Junkrat’s side. You looked at him, ready to ask him what you were doing, but he didn’t even seem to notice you. He was staring at the back of Roadhog’s head, then down at his shoes, then side to side at the walls like he was looking for an exit. 

The three of you stopped. You looked at Roadhog, who knocked on the door, and then you turned to look at Junkrat. He was pulling on his hair again, biting his lip and being all around uncomfortable. The moment he noticed you, however, he quickly reached over and his arm went around your shoulders, pulling you close again in the way you had earlier complained about. He smelled more of sweat than smoke. Was he really that nervous? 

It wasn’t a long wait. After the knock, there was five seconds of silence, and then a low, rumbling voice, not as low and gnarled as Roadhogs, but still deep, answered. 

“Come in. Bring the girl.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 10 is going to be a long one, so I hope you guys are ready! I'll be working on it as frequently as I can so it'll be out as soon as possible! In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	10. Soot and Cigar Smoke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, here's special chapter number 10! A full 11,917 words for all of your reading pleasure! <3 Have fun, lovelies!

Roadhog’s large hand clasped around the handle of the office door and pushed it open, sending a flood of rich air out into the hallway. You breathed deeply. The inside of the room smelled of some kind of spice, though you couldn’t place it. It definitely wasn’t from around Ilios. Instead of bright, clear ocean air, it was deep, like it was grown in rich soil, not gravel cliff-side like around the shore. You were tugged into the room, and it was equally as rich and dark inside, with the walls a deep, earthy red, and everything made of mahogany. The curtains over the window just behind the desk were a clay red color as well, and the lights seemed to do little to brighten the room; however, it wasn’t uncomfortably dim. The colors made the entire place feel very homey and cave-like; it felt strangely comforting. There were even a few flowers mad of paper hanging here or there, and a bowl of candy on the desk.

Sitting at that desk was a man in a black uniform, or what you assumed had to be one. It had the same general appearance of those that the rest of the guards around the place wore, with straps for ammo and holsters, all black without a bit of skin showing but the hands and face. This guy, the boss you assumed, had no skin showing at all. His face was covered, with a white mask that reminded you of a predator, an owl, and a skull all in one. His hands were covered by black, heavy duty gloves with metal claws on the ends of them, adding to his appearance of a night-stalker. He looked very out of place in his own office.

He had those clawed hands folded over his desk, where paperwork was skewed about. He waited in silence, unmoving, and when Roadhog didn’t move, and neither did Junkrat, he appeared to be pleased by it, as if it was an act of obedience not to do a single thing without an order first. You were half expecting his owl-face to tilt in approval, though all that was expressed was a hum.

His left hand lifted and he pointed at the two chairs in front of his desk, and out came that rumbling voice again, not gargled, but low. “Sit.” You turned as Roadhog closed the door behind you, enclosing you all in privacy. Roadie seemed to be the only one in motion. Junkrat was still holding onto you, not moving an inch other than his violent twitching. Roadhog paused at one of the chairs, as if he were going to sit, but he turned instead, staring at you and Junkrat. His mask was even more menacing in the lighting of the earthy office. He patted the back of the seat and grumbled out a few sounds to Junkrat, who flinched back to life and let you go almost instantly. His warmth vanished, leaving you to stand there, isolated by the door, while he scrambled into the seat that Roadhog had offered him. 

You felt Roadhog’s eyes on you, waiting with anticipation. Junkrat wasn’t paying attention anymore, instead wringing his hands out and picking under his fingernails. You glanced around, wondering what you were supposed to be doing, when your eyes landed on the mask of the Boss. He was fixated on you, and you decided you’d better take the second seat, since Roadhog was being a gentleman and not sitting.  You hurried over with quick, uneven steps, and sat yourself down, murmuring a quick thank you as you remembered your manners. This guy was your ticket out of here, your last chance. You’d better make good with him, you reminded yourself. Still, something didn’t sit right. 

There are a few moments of silence, before the Boss spoke up once more. “From what I see, she is of no more use than a child would be,” he stated harshly, and you could tell that being blunt was his forte. All the same, the critique sent chills down your spine.   
Junkrat stammered to life, “B-but, Reaper-” A hand was held up, and Junkrat was shocked into silence. 

“The orders were to remove any major holdups, not craddle them and keep them like some mangy bitch you found on the streets, Fawkes.” You winced at his angry tone, feeling bile rise in your throat at the hostility this man presented. You saw Junkrat jerk down into his seat, like hew as trying to burrow into it to hide as he was addressed. Fawkes, that was that name again, the one the blue woman had said. Was it Junkrat’s last name? Surely Junkrat wasn’t the name he was born with, it had to be more of a nickname...so had to be Roadhog. What was that first name that the blue woman had called again?

Reaper’s attention turned full on you, those black pits of his mask seeming to follow you, bringing you back into the present, in the office. You swore there was a red glow under it, like a dull fire. He spoke with venom, his hands unthreading and clenching into fists as he rose from his seat, “I don’t accept burdens, girl. You are worth nothing. You’re a brainless cripple, and it’s time to end this issue.” 

Junkrat’s entire body froze up, and you could see Roadhog tense as well, even before you comprehended what was going on. End this issue...was he going to make an example out of you?! As to why Junkrat couldn’t keep friends around? Panic flashed before you like a hot white light, and you stood up so fast that the chair you’d sat in skidded off behind you and crashed to the floor. Reaper was already standing in front of you, so close you could smell him; decay. You hardly hand any time to get a sound out before his clawed hand dug into your neck, tearing at your skin. You cried out for help, your eyes shooting around desperate to find it. Junkrat. You caught sight of him, on his feet, braced and terrified for what was happening and twitching like he was being shocked.    


He looked so helpless… Shooting pain piercing up your throat into your ears, like knives stabbing into your skin and your eardrums were being pulled out. It dragged a scream out of your throat again, and you felt tears boiling over down your cheeks, blood dripping down your skin. Your airway began to close off and you felt your knees give out as Reaper slowly pushed you to the ground, his massive strength overwhelming you. Your cheek crushed against the floor, sending pain shooting up the side of your face, through your eye and into your forehead. Your fight or flight instinct burned some bravery into you for just a moment. You kicked your legs out violently, feeling a foot come in contact with his shin.

Everything felt so loud and angry, the blood roaring in your ears and your stuffy breathing, the fact that you couldn’t get any air out of your nose anymore, and hardly through your mouth. Your own spit sputtered out of your lips, your nose running to try and clear your airways. Your thoughts were shouting at you, when in reality, you knew, the room was dead silent for all but your saliva bubbling at the back of your throat as you choked on it.   


As soon as your foot had made contact, his boot came snapping down on your bad knee. You screamed out a strangled noise, ending with a horrible gurgle as your vision began to blacken. You felt unconsciousness beginning to pull at you, when the pressure on your neck and leg suddenly vanished, and from outside the ringing in your ears you could hear a heavy thud, and Junkrat screaming curses. Your own energy had been sapped from you, not only was your body shaking from the shock of the attack, but you felt horribly empty, like something had been taken from you, and was taking it’s time to return. The hollow feeling was fading by the time you had the strength to blink the fuzzy borders from your vision, and you looked over to where Junkrat was trying to claw Reaper’s mask off.   


You tried desperately to croak for him to stop, desperately wanting Junkrat to just let it go, let it happen and not get in trouble. You shakily brought your arms down to try and sit up, but you dropped to the ground again, your head bouncing off of the wood floor like it was made of rubber, not bone.    


You felt two hands grab you around your waist and set you carefully in the chair, and when you managed to see straight again, you saw Roadhog’s leather face looking  you over, before a loud, pained bark erupted and you both looked over to where Reaper had Junkrat pinned to the nearby bookshelf, books strewn everywhere, by his face. Junkrat was struggling violently, hanging off of Reaper’s steady arm and kicking his feet out to try and get the other man off of him. Reaper’s thumb dug a wound into Junkrat’s temple, his other fingers cutting lines into his scalp as he reached for his gun with his free hand. Junkrat was going pale, his skin looking almost gray at the last few moments, his body slowing down as those few seconds passed.   


Roadhog didn’t need to think twice, and he moved faster than you thought he could have. He nailed Reaper in the side of the head with the back of his fist, sending the boss to the ground in a pile of black smoke. The smell of death immediately filled the room like a corpse had been discovered, and you gagged, trying desperately to keep it out of your nose. Junkrat had fallen to the floor, slowly standing up and leaning on Roadhog’s side, hugging him and clinging like a child would and shaking violently. The color had returned to him.   


Reaper reappeared in another writhing beam of smoke, and he looked pissed to all hell. He breathed in hard, like he was about to say something, but before he could speak there was a loud, thunderous boom that cracked through the fight in the office, shaking the airship. All three of them, Junkrat, Roadhog and Reaper, snapped to attention, Junkrat still shaky, but Reaper and Roadhog were already at the door.    


You struggled to turn yourself around, managing to stand on your one good leg, and horrified to realize that your other leg was numb. The nerves and veins in your knee replacement had been disconnected, and the knee itself was bent awkwardly to the side by Reaper’s kick. You could hardly walk right, while it wasn’t hard to move on a crooked leg, you couldn’t feel it. The feeling that you didn’t have that part of your leg terrified you… but it was still there. You were okay.   


Another loud boom was followed by violent gunshots and the sound of a woman shouting orders, dragging your attention back up to the door where Reaper and Roadhog were hurrying out of. Junkrat was immediately by your side, his metal arm hitting the back of your thighs before you could ask him what was going on. You were swept up in a bridal style hold, and you felt your head spin, a mix of light-headedness from the lack of oxygen, and the sudden tilt your world was at.   
You stared towards the door, seeing it swinging open and down the hall, out into the commons, was a set of three people, the blue woman, and soldiers everywhere. As Junkrat hurried after Roadhog and Reaper, you got a clearer view of the situation.   


The blue woman was armed, struggling to keep up with a orange looking blur. When the orange stream slowed down, you could see it was a brunette girl, holding two pistols and dashing around at impossible speeds, wearing goggles. She had some weird contraption on her chest, and he was concentrating so hard her nose was scrunched up unhappily.    


She zipped away again, and your eyes shifted over to a man in a cowboy hat, his red shawl flapping out behind him as he ducked and rolled away from Roadhog’s dangerous hook. He was firing a revolver rapidly, in bursts of five or so, and he had a scruffy brown beard and heavy cowboy boots. He was the kind of person you expected to see in one of those old, cheesy movies, not in real life.    


Then there was the other one, facing off with Reaper in a dangerous game of shotguns and what appeared to be a rocket launcher, though she wasn’t using it. Instead she was floating about, diving in and using a kind of hand to hand combat to try and disarm Reaper. You watched as she kicked one of Reaper’s shotguns out of his hand, and he reached into his holster. Smoke billowed from the leather and a new one fabricated. Confused, you looked for the one on the ground, but it was nowhere to be seen. Despite your shock at the situation, you had no time to ponder the phenomena, as Junkrat had slipped into his room with you in tow, cutting of your sight to the commons area.    


He tossed you onto your little pile of blankets, making your head spin a bit while you watched him scramble towards the dresser. He threw open the drawers, one after a nother as he tried to find the right one. When he did, it appeared to be filled with canisters of some kind. He threw a harness that had been laying on top of the dresser over his shoulders and latched it with the loop in the front. It had little hooks where he began to hook the canisters. On the back was a huge metal plate with a keyshaped hole. It was a mystery as to what that was for, as he didn’t really do anything with it, he seemed in a panic. Instead, he grabbed a satchel and whipped it over his head and down his front, leaving it hang like a fanny pack around his waist while he stuffed little red explosives into it, until it brimmed with them.    


You opened your mouth to ask what was going on, but once again you were interrupted. There was a loud bang at the door, out in the hallway, like someone had fallen or hit the wall with their full weight. Someone cursed in deep drawl before the rattling of chains sent them into a cry of pain, cutting off their profanity. Something hit the handle of Junkrat and Roadhog’s door, and there was a horrible creaking just before there was a loud, nearby bang. The single shot of a revolver. It sent the chains rattling again, and there was a loud, pained roar from Roadhog almost immediately.    


“Roadie?!” Junkrat was out the door in a second, his calls fading off into enraged screaming, and you assumed he’d run into trouble. You were left staring at the doorway, that of which was left open, watching as shadows danced across it until suddenly a body fell hard in it’s frame, knocking their head into the door and falling flat on their stomach into the room. Their cowboy hat rolled off their head as they struggled to right themselves.    


The cowboy managed to push himself up, scrambling for his hat as his longer hair fell in his eyes; those brown eyes caught sight of you and he seemed to become shocked. “M’lady,” he murmured, tipping his hat as he put it on and struggled up to his feet. “Here, now, little lady, let me help you get outta here,” he insisted, hurrying over in heavy cowboy boots and offering you his hand. You awkwardly reached up for it, though fear caused you to pause. What if he wasn’t any better than these people? His fingers brushed yours and you jerked your hand away, causing him some surprise. 

He frowned and rubbed his beard, and you examined him in silence. He was bleeding heavily down one thigh, something had ripped through his chaps, three large gashes. It had to have been Roadhog’s nails, on his hook.    


Was Roadhog okay? This guy had shot him… Your eyes narrowed and you wished you could stand and slap him for being so rude; why were he and his group here anyway?    


“Get the fuck away from her,” you heard the loud roar, and you winced when the cowboy was tackled to the ground by a rabid looking Junkrat. He had blood dried up both of his arms and he looked ready to tear this guy’s throat out. McCree had been knocked to the floor so hard he’d become dazed again, giving Junkrat the few moments he needed.    


He sat up, stared at you, his hair wild and one of the bundles of it steaming like it had set on fire at some point. His eyes were wide, and he quickly scrambled towards you, grabbing your arm and looking you over. “Are you...hurt? Did he hurt you?” You winced and tensed up as he lifted your arm and looked over your ribs, his other hand grabbing your chin and looking your face over. You slapped at his fingers and felt a blush rush down your shoulders.    


You were fine. Clearly. “Junkrat, I’m okay,” you reply setting your jaw in a stubborn way and pushing his hands away. He stared at you for a long moment before his face lit up in a smile, pure joy. God, he was just so theatrical. You were glad he was happy, though. He’d been so anxious earlier.    


The cowboy stood up and rolled past Junkrat, looking unnerved by the situation before ducking out of the room and vanishing. Junkrat glared after him and put his hand on your shoulder, grinning like a madman. It was terrifying close to that same...stupid grin he’d had when he’d blown through your neighborhood.   
Then he was gone again, staggering out the door. You weren’t going to sit in here and let them all run out there and die without you having a say in it. There was absolutely no reason to be fighting!  


Your mind traveled back to when the neighborhood kids would fight, and you’d step in, sit them down, give them what for. They would usually end up crying and hugging each other. That was hardly even a month ago, the last fight. And you’d been there, the older girl who played with them and helped them and their petty issues. Now, what were you thinking? Go out there, between a load of soldiers and a terrifying set of people at each other’s throats, going to get them to break it up with your bent leg and your bruised neck, and make them love each other?    


You sighed, though you were already leaning against the door frame, staggering out and hitting the hallway wall hard as you caught yourself.    


The fight continued violently in the commons, with the bird woman in blue still against Reaper. The young girl who was zipping around was nowhere to be seen, and the blue woman was stalking around with her visor down, looking. Roadhog was up and moving, but you could see where he’d been hit, square in the shoulder. Junkrat was with him, and both were battling the injured cowboy backwards into a wall, no matter how he tried to dodge.

You stumbled, trying to get a better view on it all, on all the grappling soldiers and the battling leaders. 

Junkrat had the cowboy pinned, pinned by the throat with his knees keeping his arms down, forcing him into complete stillness. The Cowboy was kicking, screaming and shaking his head violently, and you had a horrible feeling that Junkrat doing something horrible the guy’s face… and laughing about it. Your stomach dropped and it felt like you had a stone set it in. Junkrat’s excited howls echoed across the walls, almost drowning out the flying woman in blue. You heard her speak, just barely over the insane cracklings of the australian, “Backup, I repeat, the Mission has two factors unconsidered, need backup!” 

You heard her shout in frustration, “What do you mean what factors?! Are you hearing this, Winston? Listen to that laugh for a second would you?! Fawkes and Rutledge are here, get someone over here before we’re torn to bits, we’re outnumbered!” 

Fawkes. That was Junkrat, you’d discovered that much. Was Rutledge the name of Roadhog? 

There was a suddenly loud bang and you looked over to where that horrible laughter had choked off and left the room in a strange silence, like the gunshots hadn’t mattered. The cowboy had his metal prosthetic arm jammed up against Junkrat’s diaphragm, pinning him to the wall; the bang had been Junkrat’s head smashing off of a metal plate, which was now dented. Junkrat was still grinning, but it wasn’t reaching his eyes. It was a predatory, deadly bare of his teeth, those sharp canines seeming more fitting than ever before. The cowboy jammed his arm into Junkrat harder, and the grin turned into a grimace, his blonde brow furrowing hard into his scrunched, upturned nose, and his eyes screwed shut in strain. 

Compared to Junkrat, the southerner was bulky. They both had broad shoulders, but the difference of muscle mass on them was extreme. The cowboy’s shoulders filled out, while Junkrat’s were slim and almost boney. Junkrat’s arms were lean, and so was his body, while the cowboy was more massive. The contrast made Junkrat seem like he was just skin and bones. He looked so frail under that cowboy’s hold, especially with the arm crushing his poor ribs. You had to do something. 

You stood up and moved forwards towards the pair, and over the shouting and gunshots, you heard a loud, low shout of rage. “You scrawny, no good piece of shit,” boomed the growl as you neared, causing you to flinch. Nobody deserved that kind of talk. You looked towards them, a little closer now. The cowboy had red running down his cheeks into his scruffy beard. Upon closer inspection, his eyes were bleeding and he had claw marks down his face. Was that was Junkrat had been doing? Digging into the other man’s eyes and ripping up the guy’s face? Your stomach churned with sickness. “Stupid, disgustin’ rat, screwin’ up my Bread and fuckin’ Butter,” you heard him shout, jamming his other elbow into Junkrat’s throat. You were close enough to hear a horrible crunching and Junkrat’s gurgle. The australian jerked and kicked out, uselessly fighting against the heavier cowboy as his face turned purple and his eyes bulged. He was going to black out. Fear boiled up in you. 

Junkrat was in danger. This guy who had kidnapped you but saved your life was being strangled, his throat crushed under some stupid man’s arm. You had to do something. 

You gathered up your strength, feeling your body begin to shake with adrenaline as you realized the consequences of what you were going to do. You had to, you couldn’t see him die, he’d been nice to you, and all you’d done was push his niceness off. He’d saved your life not once, but twice...no, now that you thought about it, trying to find all the reasons you could to save him, three times. He’d refused to eli-mi-nate you, he’d knocked Reaper off of you, and he’d taken you away from a life of boredom, of doing nothing with yourself. Now he was giving you a chance to stand up and do something with your life. You hadn’t any idea what you wanted to do before, not in the slightest. Now you could only think about how you wanted to kick that stupid cowboy in his screwed up face for trying to kill your...friend?

Tears blurred your vision, but you cast your fears aside and threw your body weight into the blurry form of the cowboy. Your shoulders jerked as you made hard contact with his massive back, hearing him curse in surprise. You both hit the floor, you on top of the brunette, and him staring up at you in shock, like you were crazy. You were absolutely, positively, batshit crazy. 

You heard Junkrat’s knees crack against the tile just behind you, his raspy breaths whistling slightly as he tried to take in all the air he’d been without.

He was heaving and gagging up spit onto the floor when you finally pushed yourself off of the cowboy to turn around and look at him. His hair was burning at the tips, going from a pure blonde to a burning, sizzling, red tipped fire, and then to a dead gray. His body was covered in a new layer of fresh soot. He had a horrible rip straight up the inner thigh of his shorts, showing the equally tattered boxers underneath; you noted somewhere in the back of your mind that they had smiley faces on them, and it would have amused you had it not been for the situation, and his ribs, specifically on the right side, were bruising a dark black and blue - one of them had to be broken. His throat was red and purple from the arm that was pushed against it. The sight made you cringe. 

He sat up, wheezing one last time through his chapped lips and puffing out a snot-filled breath through his nose, sending a strand or two splattering to the ground like an angry bull. His pointed nose scrunched and his lips coiled up in a snarl, and he spat mucus and blood at the cowboy’s feet. You noticed that the southerner was still looking at you, his face pale. 

After tearing his eyes off of the southerner, Junkrat’s eyes scanned the commons for his frag launcher, it was behind you. When he spotted it, he seemed to finally notice you. His eyes went from the weapon to you, then back again a few times before going wide and awed. You stared back, into the depths of bright amber as they tried to process what had just happened. They were as wild as a child’s after a game of tag, as if you’d suddenly jumped out from nowhere and tagged him “It”; although the twitch of insanity they held didn’t go unnoticed. 

After a few moments, his eyebrows crinkled in amusement, and he grinned. It was a dark, menacing grin as he wobbled to a stand. You stared up at him, and a stab of worry hit you like an arrow in your chest. Had you done it all wrong? Was he completely out of it, and were you going to die because you had too much sympathy for this psychopath? The click of his peg hit the ground and snapped you to attention, bringing your gaze up to him as he stumbled behind you and grabbed the grenade launcher off the ground, hearing it clatter and click with ammunition and loose screws.

He slowly looked it over like he was cradling a newborn, before reloaded it, and with a grunt of approval he silently fired off into the lobby with a ‘cr-clunk’, watching the bomb bounce. You watched it, too, as it rolled underneath a soldier's feet and popped with a loud, echoing bang. You flinched as you heard the man scream in agony, but a howl of approval shrieked out of Junkrat, and his eyes finally found you again.  He reached down, grabbing you up around your waist and lifting you off of the ground. You felt a sudden tug at your shirt and glanced back just in time to see the cowboy trying to grab at you, to pull you away from Junkrat, his eyes locked with yours, desperate and terrified. A foot hit him dead in the side of his bloodied, torn up face.  He hit the ground _hard_. 

Junkrat snickered, and you heard him spit, hearing it hit the ground where the southerner was with a hard slap, and without further ceremony, you were tossed over his shoulder. 

You hung over Junkrat’s shoulder in silence, staring back at the cowboy as you were carried away, back towards the hallway. The cowboy looked off balance as he held his head and slowly tried to sit up, wobbling and having to put an arm out to hold himself upright. Junkrat did that to him. He looked so hurt…

You tried desperately to remind yourself that you didn’t know that man, he wasn’t important to you, and he’d tried to hurt Junkrat. Junkrat was nice to you, he had fed you and done so much. At the same time, you were terrified of the man carrying you. He wasn’t acting the same, he was acting like he was back in that stupid side-car, killing people and lighting things on fire. What made you think he was different? The voice in your head spoke up and the truth sat cold in your heart. Your eyes dropped silently to the stranger’s peg-leg, to the way he limped, to the way his shorts frayed and smoked. You had to admit, out of all the things for you to notice, he still smelled like he was the same. Like a pile of dirty blankets, like nervous sweat and smoke. Like jelly-jam breakfasts and his arm around your shoulder. 

But he _acted_ wrong. 

You sighed nervously and your eyes slide down his back, at the harness and the looseness of it, it was nearly sliding off of his shoulders. This was still Junkrat, somehow.

You were moved, your world shifting views as you were put up against the wall, sat down gently like you were fragile. Junkrat was face to face with you, looking you over with a terrifying smile still planted on his lips like some great catch he’d found and claimed. You tried your hardest to ignore it, but you knew it was there. 

The thought of him just leaning down and tearing your nose off or gouging your eyes like he had the cowboy plagued you, but you forced it away.

You instead focused on the harness, something that bothered you, that would go against him if it was too loose in battle. Someone could pin him by it, drag him back, strangle him… you had to fix it for him. This was still Junkrat. 

You reached up with trembling fingers to grab the belt-strap and tighten it around his abdomen. He tensed, and the act wiped that smile off of his face for just a moment before it was replaced once more, back at full strength. “You know,” he breathed, his voice but a hiss as he reached his mechanical hand up and patted you on the cheek, you winced, but he didn’t seem to notice, taking you by the chin and tilting your head up. All your heart wanted you to believe he was smiling warmly at you and getting ready to spill out the days activities like he’d done that morning, but your mind knew that this wasn’t Junkrat. This was _not_ Junkrat. Fear took your breath from you as you tried your best to keep your eyes level with his. You looked into those orange irises. _This_ was definitely _not_ that same Junkrat. 

“We’re a great team, Sheila,” he growled, grinning even wider still as he patted your head with his free hand like some kind of pet. Bitterness boiled in your stomach and you shrank away in fear. Your submissive response only seemed to reassure his actions, and he laughed at your terror. Your blood ran ice cold at that stupid laugh, low to start before rising in pitch as he backed up and left you in solitude, vanishing into the fray of battle. 

Over and over in your head you tried to convince yourself that it was not Junkrat, staring after him with a dry throat and your fingers numb with fear. But he was still Junkie, and you knew that. You’d just put all your eggs into one basket in hopes that Rat would be smiling and giddy and childish through-and-through, even after you saw how horrible he could be in person, that first night you saw him. You’d hoped, and you’d been wrong.

The door to the commons was suddenly blocked by what you assumed to be reinforcements. Three people and a group of a dozen or so soldiers, you didn’t have the heart to count.

There was a man in blue, a visor over his face and white hair. Much taller than him was a huge man in metal armor - you recognize him from old posters that your father had kept, posters that he told you stories about. Reinhardt, a crusader, part of Overwatch. Then...they were the good guys? Fear gripped your heart.

You’d attacked that cowboy...did that make you bad in their eyes? Your chances of leaving were over… You turned and looked to Junkrat. You wanted to stand up and run to the big crusader. Your mind had gone from ‘ _Junkrat, he’s good. He helped me,_ ’ to the realization that you were being used, you were some kind of pet like Reaper had said. Had Junkrat had other’s he’d kept around? Were you even as special a thing as he made you out to be?

That same bitterness returned and held tight around your heart. 

The third notable reinforcement was a woman with blonde hair pulled back into a high ponytail, not too long, but not too short either. She stood with her shoulders back and a hard pride in her face, her eyebrows furrowed as she scanned the room. She carried a staff, light spiralling around the head of it, and on her back she wore a pair of mechanical wings, their feathers made of a strange lighting effect and making her look like a beautiful mechanical angel. 

Your vision was blocked off by the bird woman, her blue armor and bright yellow eyeguard making a beautiful contrast with the white of the other woman.  
After a few words between the two, the woman with the staff, you assumed she was a medic by the way she was dressed and how she carried herself, turned on her toes and scanned over the battlefield again. When she faced the cowboy, her face hardened into determination, and she took two steps before lunging forwards and letting her wings flare open, catching the air allowing her to quickly glide towards the cowboy. At this point, the brunette was standing, struggling to keep his balance and fire off at any soldiers who got too near. While you’d noticed when he’d first arrived that his aim was terrifyingly accurate, he was missing once or twice before nailing them between the eyes. The bodies around him made you ill. So many deaths...the room around you smelled of rot and blood.   


The medic delicately landed in her ballerina-like way, as light as if she were made of paper, and she reached out a slender hand to the cowboy, who slapped his calloused fingers into hers. Her strength must have been much more than you’d first anticipated, because when the cowboy lost his footing and fell, she held him up, onto his feet again.   


The two took their time to the doors, moving behind the watchful eye of the blue-bird woman, and was ordering the soldiers who were wounded out of the battle. Those who were hurrying out were quickly replaced with more, fresh troops.   


Your eyes returned to the cowboy and the angel, watching as the cowboy’s hat tipped off of his head and tumbled to the ground. He made a grab for it, causing them both to stagger, before the woman righted them both, and bent down to pick up the heavy hat, dusting it’s crusted surface off. The cowboy’s shoulders shook in a laugh, and his lips moved with a smile. He paused, and his smile fell as he turned and tried to pull away from the medic suddenly...why was he doing that? He was in such horrible shape...you wanted to stand up and yell at him to get himself out of here before he loses an eye, but you thought better of it. You didn’t want to draw attention to yourself.   


He managed to turn himself around, facing the room again, and he was scanning, looking frantically around with his jaw locked and his ragged eyebrows furrowed over those brown eyes. After a long moment, you felt a chill go up your spine as his face turned towards you, and he gasped, grabbing onto the medic with one hand, and pointing at you with the other. He was saying something rapidly to her as she tried to pull him towards the door, where the blue soldier and Reinhardt stood guard, waiting for her to safely get out of the commons. Despite her tugging and pulling, he remained standing, and turned to the soldier instead, saying something sternly to him, before the cowboy gave in, and left the airship. You felt your heart clench as the soldier nodded, and pulled away from the door, moving towards you.   
All you could think in your head was how that dialog went. 

_“Come on, cowboy, let’s get you outside, you’re in rough shape.”_

_ “Hah, yeah I am! That’s because some little bitch...wait a second. Where is she?”_

_ “Cowboy, you’re hurt, don’t go after some girl!” _

_ “Where...there, that’s her over there! Soldier, go get her!” _

You felt like death was moving at you with an assault rifle. Behind him, Reinhardt moved in front of the doorway to keep guard, to block anyone from escaping. Was he truely the last one? You were left to ponder this for only a second before the body of the blue soldier blocked your view, and knelt down before you. His face was covered by a mask, with a red visor over his eyes. HIs hair was white, but looked soft and shone with health. He had deep creases in his forehead as he furrowed his brow at you, and panic sent a spark right through you. What was he going to do? 

Fear struck through you as you imagined that assault rifle clocking you upside the head and knocking you out, or the barrel of the thing aiming between your eyes and with a quick spray of bullets...there you went, all across the wall. 

The thoughts terrified you...when you were back home, you would never think such gorey things, but here they were, in your face and in your mind. It was all around you. 

But the soldier didn’t hurt you, and instead his hand reached out to you, as if to shake yours in greeting. He reminded you too much of Reaper. Face covered by a mask, expression unknown, and his hands covered as well, with red, leather gloves. And yet he seemed so much more trustworthy...was it the colors? Reaper in black, while this man was red, white and blue. 

You reached out and took his hand, and he slowly stood up, pulling you with him. He pulled you to your feet, and pulled you to his chest, wrapping his strong arm around your shoulders and suddenly encasing you in safety. All the gunshots and Junkrat’s cackling, the bangs of his bombs going off under the feet of soldiers, that seemed like it was suddenly outside. You pushed yourself closer to him, and he reached his free hand down, his rifle on his back, to lift you into a bridal style hold. You felt the world turn around you, your eyes staring up at the ceiling as you thought of how you were being rescued, if you could think of it that way. You were still extremely muddled on whether or not you belonged here or back home. 

The ceiling passed you by, and soon the frame of the door swooped through your vision, replacing itself with the bright blue sky and the sun in your eyes. The smell of smoke vanished, and you took a deep, greedy breath of the homey Ilios sea-air. 

It was quieter out there, so much so that the voices around you seemed far away. You were set down next to a soldier, who was talking in a regular volume, but it sounded distant to you. You reached up and stuck a finger in your ear, opening your mouth and feigning a yawn to try and pop them. When they did pop, it was painful. Your hearing returned, tuning in just in time to hear a deep southern drawl beside you ask, “You alright, m’lady?” 

The question had been so sudden that you jumped slightly where you sat, feeling your heart rate fly. You turned your head, looking to your left at the cowboy you’d paid so much attention to on the battlefield. He had a bandage around his head, his long hair poking out from under it and flowing around his ears. He had a cigar between his lips, those of which were split and cracked. The four deep scratches across his cheek and eye were crusted over and covered in ointment, and his eyes were still bloodshot, blood ringing their water-lines. 

Despite that, he had a strong pair of cheekbones and a nose that had been broken a couple times, probably set wrong the first time as well. His eyes were a bright, but muddy brown, and his smile was cheery and white as he grinned down at you. He didn’t seem mad or even uncomfortable after what you did. His fingers reached up, two of them taped together as to heal a broken one, to scratch his scruffy beard, which still had blood dried in it. You couldn’t help but cringe at the sight, knowing that Junkrat had caused that. 

The cowboy seemed to notice your wince, though he didn’t address it directly. Instead, he reached out his other hand, that of which was a prosthetic, much more high-tech than Junkrats, but still the same basic thing. He held his hand out for you to shake, and you awkwardly reached your good arm up to return the greeting, though your nerves boiled at the thought that he might still be mad at you.

“I’m Jesse McCree...what’s yer name, lil’ lady?” Oh...okay, didn’t sound mad yet. 

You stared up at him for a long moment as if waiting for him to change his mind and hate you.

Jesse. Jesse McCree, who had his face ripped up by someone you’d already taken to calling a friend. And you didn’t regret calling Junkrat a friend, but you weren’t proud of it either. He was just...not what you’d expected at all.

“Y/n,” you replied, not wanting to give a last name for the sake of privacy. You weren’t apart of some military group that went after some other military group like this guy was. You still knew what privacy was...Jesse probably had communal showers at their base or something like that. 

You shrugged the thoughts off. Probably not, but you just felt uncomfortable giving off that much information at the moment. Jesse McCree didn’t seem to care at all, beaming at you and shaking your hand a few times before letting them drop back to where they were placed, on his knees, while yours flopped onto the blanket you were placed on. 

“Nice to meet you, Y/n,” he replied kindly, tipping and invisible hat and seeming to remember he still had his somewhere. He went searching, giving you a moment to look at your surroundings. You were worried you wouldn’t have any time if this guy was going to chat you up. 

The medic was kneeling by McCree’s side, patching up a few bullet wounds with concentration written into her brow. There were many other soldiers, already patched up, that were chatting amongst themselves. Other than that, the only thing that was different was the fact that off in the distance, on the other side of the ruins, was another airship...when had that landed? And how hadn’t you heard it? Was Reaper’s office sound proof? That wouldn’t have surprised you, the boss seemed the paranoid type.  
You zoned back into your current situation with the medic, who was sitting with her eyes locked on Jesse’s face. He was telling the tale of his wounds, and filling Mercy in on his battle with Junkrat.

“-little jackass in there had me pinned down under him! The little fucker smells like pig slop and somethin’ else, I’ll tell ya’.” He had one of his hands lifted, waving in front of his nose theatrically, though you had to admit, the australian definitely needed a bath...that would never happen. 

“And the little shit was digging his greasy nails into my eyes, had my arms under his boney knees and diggin into my skin with that hunk of junk he calls a leg. I couldn’t do shit, so I started to try and move whatever I could, ya’ see.” He pointed to his eyes, his face coiling up in a snarl. You recalled it vividly as he continued, describing how he kicked his feet, scrambling for a hold on the floor where there was none, jerked his chin and arched his back but he couldn’t get out. That had been a struggle you’d seen first hand. 

“And the little rat, to get me to keep still, tore into my bread and butter, Angela, just look at my face!” Angela...was the doctor. You were concentrating so hard on remembering it that when you came back into listening to Jesse, he was whining. “You said this cream’s gonna keep it from scarrin’ up, right?” 

Angela giggled and gently nodded, “What happened after that...how did you get you’re concussion?” Her voice was in a strange accent...was it german? 

Jesse continued, “So I manage to get one of his knees off my arm and I knock him off of me before he takes my damned eyes out, and at this point I’m real pissed at this S.O.B. So I throw him to the wall and I jam my trusty left arm right into his ribs. I’m doin my best to break the damn things but he’s kickin and screamin’ so I decide ‘hey, I can still break his bones if he’s passed out, right? A little revenge.” 

“So I’m chokin’ the Rat up against the wall, and what do you know, this little firecracker nails me right in the ribs, sends me straight to the floor. Now I ain’t hurt from it, she’s pretty light,” he was smiling at you, and he had one hand up, just above your shoulder as if he was deciding whether or not to touch you...you appreciated it when he decided not. 

“But she got me good...saved Jamison’s ass, but I don’t think she never meant for him to go at her like that...cause next thing I know she’s being picked up and I’m tryin’ to hold her down, then off she goes into the battle right after Jamison kicked me straight in the head.”

He lifted a hand and pointed to the bandages. You glanced around, seeing that a few more soldiers had gathered to hear the tale. “Hell if I cared, I was tryin’ to get up and go after them. I was worried that, even if the Rat was friends with her, he’d go off like he does and hurt her...Scared for her life, I was. She looked like she’d seen a ghost when Junkrat picked her up.” 

He turned to you, giving you a big grin and patting you lightly on the back. “So I got Soldier 76 over there to grab you up and bring you out here to be looked at. It ain’t safe in there, no matter if he’s your friend or not…” His smile faded and he looked to Angela, who had gently stood and was now kneeling before you. 

“I see...well, I’m sorry to say, Y/n, but we can’t let you go back in there with Jamison and the others,” she stated as she looked your face over, scanning you for injuries.   
Despite anticipating it, the words weighed heavy on your heart. After finally finding a friend, he went crazy and now you weren’t allowed back to see him. It hurt...yet you knew it was the right step. He was dangerous. 

Speaking of him...Jamison. That was his name, Jamison Fawkes. Did he even answer by it anymore?

“Anyway, doc, I’m glad you showed up,” came the voices of those around you again, but you weren’t listening. You hadn’t heard them talking about whatever they’d moved onto, maybe another soldier’s story...maybe Angela was asking you about your injuries. All you heard was the unsteady clicks of a peg hitting metal as you saw Junkrat over their shoulders, running down the ramp and launching himself at Soldier 76.

You saw him fly through the air, a bomb in hand, as he hit the Soldier and managed to slip that bomb down into the man’s blue jacket, and as Soldier 76 leaped into action, danced around desperately...

_ Pop. _

A loud scream bounced off of the ruins and was followed by wails of agony, and laying in the grass just ten yards ahead of you was a smoking, smoldering Soldier 76, thrashing around before falling into a heavy stillness. He was breathing hard, his jacket shredded through the back 76 logo, and blood staining the grass all around him. He moved, struggling to try and stand up, and almost instantly Angela was by his side, her staff producing a stream of light that flooded over the massive wound on the soldier’s back. 

Caused by Junkrat. 

The australian was moving towards you, his eyes wide and worried up until the moment they locked with yours. He visibly gasped, his mouth parting slightly and his eyes lighting up, just before your vision was blocked by a pair of scuffed up chaps and the sound of Jesse murmuring ‘sorry, lil’ lady. He ain’t safe.” 

You winced as a shot from his revolver was fired...and there was silence for a moment, before you heard a snarl of frustration. Jesse had missed.

Junkrat and Jesse’s body sailed over you as Junkrat tackled the cowboy, sending them both to the ground with a hard thud. 

They tangled together in a struggle to keep the other one down, and you watched in horror. Your body moved before your mind did, standing you up and stumbling you away from the knot of soot and cigar smoke. 

It wasn’t long before Junkrat prevailed, elbowing Jesse McCree hard upside the head, and sending him to the ground. 

He staggered to a stand, his hair wild as always and his eyes flashing around, flickering light fire. He found you, and he put his hand to the side of his face. His mouth began to move, forming “I’m Sor-” just before a hammer swung hard from your side...and there was a loud crack as Junkrat’s prostetic was nailed, creaking and snapping into two, the spring bending out of shape. 

Junkrat screamed in frustration, his hand reaching out to you, and you standing still, shocked. His fingers touched your shirt for just a moment, and hope flashed onto his face right before he ate the ground, before all of it was taken away from him. 

You could see his determination sucked out of him as Reinhardt’s large armored arm wrapped around you and lifted you up, holding you like a rugby ball. He was surprisingly gentle with you for such a massive man, but now you hardly found it comforting…

Your heart was torn. Junkrat scared you but he seemed to care so much… 

You didn’t seem to have a choice anymore, as Reinhardt was carrying you away from the now struggling Junkrat, pinned under the blue-bird lady. He shrieked in pain, cursing and spitting as you turned away, now further into the ruins and unable to look back and see him. 

“Y/n!?” 

Your heart clenched as he shouted for you, but you didn’t call back. You heard another bomb crackle off behind you, and more calls for your name, but a low, hearty voice interrupted your sadness for just a moment.

“Do not worry, little child. He will not get you in the airship. I will take you to Winston, and he should answer all of your questions!” You looked up at Reinhardt, who had taken his helmet off… he looked so old. His hair was longer like McCrees, the same length but pure white with a few silver strips here and there. He had a large scar over his left eye, turning it to a blind white, while the other was a shade of brown. He had a thick mustache leading down into his beard. 

Wait but… you were being taken to the airship? You frowned up at him, biting your bottom lip nervously and reaching your hands up around his arm to try and readjust yourself. Your ribs were beginning to hurt, but he was still on his way to the massive ship just ahead of you. The gunshots and bombs faded behind you as you grew closer, and soon, you noticed, the smaller girl in orange tights, the one with the strange device on her chest, joined you. She stared up at you with wide brown eyes behind her goggles. 

“Oh, hey there! You’re that hostage they had, right? I didn’t think we’d be saving a hostage today, because usually they just- hey, ow!” Reinhardt had reached over and tapped her rather hard on the head, sending her zipping to the side in a flash of light. That wasn’t...natural. She returned in another trail of colors, putting her hand out and grinning wide at you. “I’m Lena…” 

Oh, right! I am Reinhardt!” You stared at them both, and nervously reached out to take Lena’s hand. You supposed you were making new friends...but did Junkrat think you abandoned him? 

You realized now why that bothered you so much, leaving that crazy idiot back there. 

You used to be made fun of and called a cripple, and all of your friends would never play with you or include you. While you hadn’t been crazy or murderous as a child, you knew that Junkrat wasn’t like that all the time anyway. He had been so excited to show you all the things he liked to do, even if they were madness, gave you headaches, and smelled like horrible memories…

And he’d pulled you out of danger so many times, saved your life twice, and you supposed a third time at this point. You came to understand now that you thinking the third one was probably just you trying to compensate for hurting Jesse McCree. 

And here you were, him back in his right mind, calling for you...and you weren’t trying to go back to him and calm him down, and be a good friend. Maybe you could help him...but you weren’t even trying. 

Lena was going off about something or another, telling a story about how she and Reinhardt did something somewhere. You were paying more attention to the wide doorway, similar to the other airship’s entrance, that you were entering through. The commons area was more posh if anything, but mostly the same. The seats were cushioned, and the table neat and organized. There were flowers in some vases, those of which were attached to the table for takeoff, and there was even a few fans here and there. There were posters up of...that was Dv.A. You knew a girl who watched her, you thought...she was famous, but really young.

You were gently set down onto a bench seat, padded as well, where there was a placemat in front of you and a few books, bookmarked as if people were reading them but had to stop...perhaps because they had been the reinforcements.

When you looked up again, Reinhardt was standing guard at the door, and Lena was nowhere to be seen. The entire place smelled clean and calming, and you noticed that all the windows were open to let in the sea air. It was...nice. Better than Junkrat’s stuffy room, but at the same time it felt too formal...uncomfortable. There were no blanket piles here. 

You glanced to the door again as Reinhardt’s shield flashed up before your eyes. He stepped to the side, allowing Angela inside, who was ushering in...McCree, and Pharah. The two of them were carrying Soldier 76 on a stretcher. He was awake, but his breaths came out quick and pained. He was shirtless, and bandaged up as best as Angela could have done. Junkrat did that. 

Not only did Junkrat do that, but he did it because of you. 

You bit your lip and stared at the table. Why was he hurting everyone? He could easily have come out and asked for you back...you would have probably agreed...wouldn’t you have? 

Your head was starting to hurt… 

The smell of lavender filled your nose as a tray of tea was placed in front of you, with a single steaming cup and a small bowl with sugar cubes in it for your pleasure. Lena gave you a small smile when you looked up to her.

“Here you go, love. Angela always says lavender’s good for shock, so I thought you’d like some tea…” She was looking at you with a worried expression. “Angela’s the medic over there...have you met her?” She pointed and you gave a nod, murmuring your thanks. You put a couple cubes of the sugar in and picked up the spoon to stir them in. You didn’t have hot tea often, since it was expensive in Ilios, but you often had iced tea at restaurants. It was usually pretty bitter, so you decided to add some sugar. Better safe than sorry. 

You stirred them in and let the bag seep for a bit more as you turned to Lena, worried. 

“Um, Lena...did you see what happened to J...Jamison? You guy’s didn’t hurt him too bad, right?” You wanted to know that he wasn’t broken up or...dead. God forbid dead. He didn’t deserve that. He deserved help, and you’d suddenly decided that you were going to be that help. Nobody else was going to do it. 

“Jamison?” She stared at you for a moment, her hands reaching up to take her goggles off and ruffle her hair. “Sorry, love, I wouldn’t know. Pharah was the one who went at him, not me.” She pointed across the commons to where the blue-bird lady was exiting what was labeled as the doctor’s office. Pharah was her name then?   
You opened your mouth to call for her when Lena suddenly interrupted you. It didn’t seem on purpose, but it was still frustrating all the same. You needed to know if Junkrat was okay.

“Here’s the big guy himself! Winston, over here!” You turned your gaze towards where she was waving…  
There was a giant gorilla with glasses making his way towards you, smiling rather threateningly. Dear god. 

“Hello, Lena,” he greeted, sitting across the table from you and adjusting his glasses. “Is this the hostage? Faheera was telling me about it on her way back over here. Jamison had her?” You nervously looked away from his gaze, down at your tea, which was steaming hotly. You reached down to take it and attempt a sip, trying not to burn yourself. 

“Yes! Her name is…” She frowned, looking at you and motioning encouragingly with her hands. 

You glanced up at Winston again, hiding your nose in your tea for another moment before replying quietly. “Y/n…” She and him both nodded. Who was this Faheera? You pushed the thought away...everyone with their two names, it was frustrating you. 

“Well, Y/n, Angela is busy with Soldier 76 right now, so I’m going to have to give you a checkup...Lena, would you mind leaving us be? I’m going to try and catch her up on what’s going on around her as well. I think she’d like a little more privacy.” 

Lena’s eyes lit up and she gave a wide grin. “Sure thing, big guy! I’ll just be right on over that way,” she said, before the machine on her chest lit up and she zipped off.   
You stared after her, watching as the light trails vanished, leaving you with Reinhardt at the door, and Winston...and your tea. 

“Alright, Y/n...how did you get to be in that airship with Jamison?” He was staring at you, and you awkwardly set your tea down. You began your story, telling him about how Junkrat and Roadhog went through your town, how you felt horrible the next few days. You found yourself spilling all of your thoughts, about Yaya’s advice, about how you felt when the blue-woman interrogated you, Winston said that her name was Amelie, but she went by Widowmaker now, and it was probably better to address her as such. 

You explained how Junkrat refused to kill you, then how comfortable you’d gotten with him, though you started to see another side of him through the day, then the situation with Reaper, and how you got the bruises around your neck. How Junkrat saved you, and how he suddenly seemed to be an entirely different person after going into the fight. You repeated the story that Jesse had told Angela, but from your perspective, and then you explained what conclusion you’d come to...and how you needed to leave as soon as possible, to go back and make sure Junkrat was okay. 

The entire time Winston was nodding, looking concerned. 

“Y/n, I think we should have a discussion about what’s going on around you, is that okay?” You stared at him, your tea half gone. You nodded, and he gave you a small smile, and continued. 

“Where you’re at right now, is Overwatch...we’re regrouping to try and do what we’ve always done, keep the peace. I know, it’s illegal, but it all started when Reaper, the guy who tried to kill you, attempted to steal our data from my god program, Athena. Our work was in danger, and it was about to be in the wrong hands…”   
Winston continued about how Overwatch and Talon, something that Widowmaker and Reaper were apart of, were against each other. He explained how Talon was looking for relics in the ruins, and that they’d found one, so Overwatch had to come in, and take it. That was why they were here today.   
But they hadn’t expected Junkrat and Roadhog. He switched topics. 

“You know that Jamison and Mako are from Australia, right?” You nodded, your tea gone. You still held the warm cup, feeling comfort in having something to hold and keep between you and Winston. “Well, they got caught up in all the radiation, after the bomb went off. Mako lived through it, and Jamison, we think, was raised in it. That’s why, Y/n, they’re not normal. Jamison, especially, doesn’t think right. He’s dangerous, and can turn on a dime.” You frowned. 

“He’s dangerous to you. And we can’t let anyone die if we can help it...we’re the good guys, it’s our job!” He gave a half-hearted smile. You caught on immediately.   
“So what you’re saying,” you suddenly shrieked, catching the attention of Reinhardt at the door. “Is that I can’t leave, you’re not going to let me go!?” Winston flinched. Reinhardt turned to you, and Winston gently turned and politely asked him to go. The brute of a man grinned and turned to one of the back doors, exiting into the airship. 

“I’m sorry, Y/n,” Winston sighed, standing up and moving to the door controls, closing it up with a passcode. “But Jamison and Mako are killers. They’ve stolen a lot from this world, money and lives included. They’ve done a lot of damage, and we’re not going to let you go to them.” 

You felt your face flood with an angry blush and you stood up, gasping as your bent leg jerked with pain. You sat again, reaching down to try and massage it, your thigh cramping. Winston stared at you for a moment before giving a soft sigh, and turning to leave the room...leaving you alone in the commons.

You already knew that. You already knew that Junkrat was a horrible person, but he was still your friend, and he’d still done everything he could for you. It wasn’t his fault that he was stuck in all that radiation with all the Junkers and other crap that happened in Australia. You weren’t going to abandon him when he obviously needed someone sane in his life to help ground him. Roadhog wasn’t there for that, Roadhog was there for similar company...he was from the same place, from the same radiation. Maybe you were his first actual friend. And you weren’t going to abandon him, not now. It wasn’t fair. 

You sighed and stood up, turning to face the door controls...how did you work those things? You limped over, feeling your thigh clench again with strain. You leaned up against the wall as you tried to figure out what all the buttons did…

This was impossible, it was some kind of pass code to open and close it. You didn’t know, you didn’t pay any attention to when Winston had closed it...you were trapped in here. 

And Junkrat was out there. Alone. 

_Crack_. 

A clatter of items fell behind you, like the entire table suddenly flipped over. 

You turned around, and gasped. “Junkie?!” “Y/n!” You both spoke at the same time, your eyes locking. Junkrat was no worse for wear than he’d been earlier when you last saw him. He was walking horribly, having to crouch and move on all fours. Somehow he’d managed to clamber up the wall of the outside of the airship, and fall into the window...to see you. 

His hair was still warm with flames, though most of it had died out and been colored gray with ash. Half of one of his eyebrows was gone, and he had a horrible wound along his left side, something you hadn’t noticed before, but realized was scorch marks. He didn’t seem to notice them in the slightest. He was struggling towards you, a big smile on his face. 

You hurried back towards him, your heart fluttering slightly as you reached out and grabbed him around the chest. You hugged him, and you felt apologies for everything, for not trying to get away hard enough, for not saying anything, for taking their hands, for all of that, escape your mouth. When you fell silent, he giggled and gently pulled you off of him. 

“Man, you’re a sap, Sheila,” he struggled up onto a seat, and you awkwardly sat opposite of him, like Winston had once done to you. “I’m just glad to see they ain’t got you in chains for what you did to McCree! Hah, did you see the look on his face!” He cackled, and you heard shouts from further in the airship. 

But he remembered that? You tackling McCree...did he remember how he acted, how he was different? He didn’t appear to. You sighed, feeling your body relax. “Yeah,” you replied. “Yeah I did. Hey...Jamison?” 

His body tensed, and he suddenly stopped smiling, staring at you with wide, terrified eyes. “Where’d you hear that from, sheila?” There was a nervous chuckle, and you felt yourself pout, staring him down as he fidgeted from side to side. You noticed that he’d shoved the remains of his leg into his waistband...probably to fix later. 

“Widowmaker...and Reaper, and Winston. A lot of people have been saying it, calling you that,” you replied quietly, staring down at the damage he’d done to the table. Part of it was broken off, chipped while your tea cup was on the ground, and all the books that had been there were on the floor as well. “Is that your actual name? Jamison Fawkes?” 

He was twitching wildly, avoiding your eyes. You just smiled at him, and he seemed to take a breath, and try to calm down. “Ye-yeah.” He looked away again. 

You just smiled even wider, trying your best to calm him down. Smiling seemed to help the best, from what you knew so far. “It’s a nice name, I like it,” you cooed, and you saw a blush flood his face, his eyes shooting up to you. You laughed, and he crossed his arms stubbornly. 

“Well I like yours better! Yours fits you, Jamison ain’t me. I’m not a Jamison.” He set his mouth in a straight line, trying to keep himself serious, but you could tell you were getting back through to giggling, chatty Junkrat again. 

So you slapped your hands on the table and snorted, “You’re definitely not a Jamison,” you replied, and he winced, though he was laughing quietly behind sealed lips. “I think Jamie fits better.” He fidgeted, and his eyes went wide again. 

“Yeah, roight,” he murmured under his breath, before a smile exploded on his face. “I guess you can call me that if you want.” He went on laughing, and you shook your head at him. All this way, all the crap you’d just gone through and he was able to climb through a window of the enemy airship, sit down and have a conversation with you like it was nothing.

On an enemy airship. “Oh, shit,” you cursed, and he looked to you, laughing more at your language. But you weren’t laughing, “Jamie we have to get out of here again...can you climb back out through that window? I’m smaller than you so I can…”

He looked up at the window, his hair bobbing and his nose scrunched. He had his lips pursed as if he were about to kiss the air, scrunched to the side in a thoughtful expression. “Well,” he replied, “I’ll lift you outta here, cause you’re a short one. Then I’ll follow ‘cause I’m taller and can reach it m’self,” he planned, awkwardly standing up. “Then we’ll get right on back to Roadhog!” 

You nodded slightly, finding the plan...as sound as it could be. He balanced himself against the wall, wobbling until he founds his footing, when all of a sudden the world moved. 

The floor shook and he fell to the ground, shrieking in surprise as all of a sudden all the windows closed, locking the airship down...and you began to rise. You felt it like you were on an elevator; you’d only ever been on one but you assumed they were all the same. You were…

“Ah, bloody hell, we’re taking off!” Junkrat’s eyes grew wide and he threw himself up at the window, his fingers digging into the sides of the metal frame...he pulled desperately, staring out the glass and suddenly wailing in sadness. You stood up, and struggled to clamber up next to him. Your eyes barely reached over the high up window...and out there you saw Roadhog, running after the airship desperately. You were nearly forty feet up at this point. You and Junkrat were trapped. 

And while you were in the safety of new acquaintances, Jamie was surrounded by enemies.


	11. Surrounded by the Enemy

The airship shifted around as it fought the ocean winds to stabilize itself high up in the air. The structure creaked, bringing about sounds of what reminded you of ‘a house settling’, as your mother would call it. Your home often creaked like that. Just...quieter. You sighed, your heart aching as you realized that you really were away from home now. And you were going somewhere far off, away from Ilios. This was the first time in your twenty four years of life that you’d ever been further than the big town upshore. You felt alone, with a deep feeling of loss settled in the pit of your stomach. The Overwatch people must have traveled around so much in this airship thing that it was like a second home to them. Seeing new sights, or even old sights, and moving around often would’ve been common to them. 

Yet, there was one other person you knew was feeling a horrible sense of loss, and it was one that was deeper and more painful than yours. A loss of a friend, if not a brother. Junkrat. He was still struggling to get the window open, a futile struggle. Even if he had managed to get it open, you would have dragged him back from jumping at this point. Roadhog was but a dot below you, standing on the edge of the cliff staring after you. 

Any jump from the electronically sealed window would send him plummeting to his death, off of the cliff. He must have realized it was useless by now, and yet he just seemed so desperate to get it open. A rat in a cage. He was nearly in tears. He looked like he was going to have a complete meltdown, and was shaking and twitching more violently that you could ever remember in your short time with him. You watched him, afraid to touch him and not wanting to make any noise or have him freak out at you. Or burst into tears. God forbid he breakdown like that.

But he touched you first, getting rid of your anxiety of what you could do to help. He dropped from the window and collapsed down on the seat where you’d decided to sit yourself and wait, wait for something new to happen or for Junkrat to calm down. He landed so hard on the plush cushioning that the padding wheezed with strain, and it even sounded like it hurt. His prosthetic clicked brokenly as it hit the metal part of the bench, And he sat with a deflated slouch. There was a long silence as he stared at his lap, perhaps coming to terms with the idea that it wasn’t possible to just up and blow his way out of the airship anymore. He didn’t have his grenade launcher, and he would plummet to his own demise. Not to mention, and you hoped he realized this, that if he blew up the airship, you’d certainly die as well.

His arms slid around your ribs, pulling you close to him like a teddy bear...for comfort. You would have minded the contact a day ago, maybe even gagged at his sour, smoky smell and felt uncomfortable next to his furnace-like body. But now you realized that it was okay. And you wanted to make sure he knew that too. “Hey, Junkie... it’ll be-”

“ _No._ ” He interrupted you, his eyes flashing down at you in a familiar expression, one you knew well. Blind panic, denial that it would be fine. You understood. You felt comfortable enough where you were. You were surrounded by Jesse and Angela and Lena. Junkrat was surrounded by the enemy, in the enemy airship, isolated, without weapons. Without his bodyguard. He was allowed to think it wouldn’t be okay, that everything was bad, you decided.  

“I-I don’t...ah, shit, Y/n, _shit, shit, shit._ ” He wheezed as he squeezed you closer, and you frowned up at him as he painfully pressed you against him. You squirmed to get comfortable, so his metal arm wasn’t jamming so hard into your ribs. You wanted to help him, to make him feel more secure… but he wasn’t going to listen, he’d already interrupted you once, so you weren’t sure how to help. He fell silent again, though his breathing was rapid again, and his eyes had gone dilated. He was staring silently at your hair, trying to distract himself by tracing the way it flowed with his eyes. His entire body shook violently, and you could tell there was a fight or flight response and a blast of adrenaline running through him. You couldn’t decipher which was which, if he was going to flip out and start trying to tear everything up, or frantically try to claw his way out of the window again. You didn’t know any way that you could help… you knew he was on the edge of a panic attack, if not trying violently to deal with one. But you knew a few things that could help, or hurt. Touch, talking, or silence. So you turned around, picked one of the three, and you hugged him around the waist as tightly as you could, your bad arm spasming at the strain.

There was a long silence between the two of you, and you felt grateful for it. His shivering lessened, became less violent, and after a little while he took a deep breath, and released it in a heavy sigh. He still didn’t speak, so you decided you’d try to talk to him as well. “Hey, Jamie,” you murmured, feeling him flinch and his body tremor again, but you thought you should press forwards anyway. “It ain’t all that bad,” you proceeded, and he tensed. “No, think about it!” He looked down at you, and you turned your head to stare up at him, his amber eyes were locked skeptically on your face.

You smiled gently, and his brow relaxed, no longer furrowed so hard. “You’ve got me,” you said, “And Roadhog is okay, so am I, and so are you. We’re all alive, right? So you and I will just have to work together to get back to Roadhog. Okay?” His shaking stilled almost entirely, other than a few fidgets as he thought about it, and then he nodded, and a small smile returned to his face. You turned to face away from him again, removing your arms from around his waist, and leaning back into his shoulder as he continued to hold you. There was a long stillness as his breathing relaxed, and you were about to get up and move when his nose buried into the side of your neck, stopping you short. This was...very close, but you supposed he needed his comfort... gosh, he was warm. He sniffled and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to be depending on you like he did on Roadhog. You weren’t sure if you could handle that kind of responsibility. You yourself weren’t that emotionally okay either.

Eventually,  he did let go of you and you scooted slightly to give him space. He leaned back and stared up at the bright LED lights, while you leaned forwards to begin picking up the books and the fallen tea that he’d pushed off of the table when he’d entered the room. You were actually surprised that none of the Overwatch people had heard him or come in yet. Were they somewhere else in the airship, further in? Or were the walls that soundproof?

You felt a few fingers run through your hair and you winced, turning over your shoulder quickly to see Junkrat trying to brush ashes out of your hair. When you flinched, he immediately pulled back, his eyes going wide and his face falling. He murmured a quiet apology, but he reached out to try and get the rest of them anyway. He was so sad….and you had no idea how to help. What usually helped? You set your face in determination, and you reached up to slap at his hand, causing him to wince even though you didn’t hit him that hard. He recoiled, and you shot him a grin. As he watched you, you sat up and shook your hair out, sending all the dust he’d left on you from his escapades and the hug off into the air, forming a cloud around you.

That certainly did it. He chuckled, a real chuckle, as if you’d just taken the burden off of his shoulders. He reached a hand up and waved away the soot, looking at you with an equally wide grin. You smiled back at him, glad you could have lightened the mood and-... You jerked back as his fingers smeared across your cheek, leaving a trail of grey from all the soot and sweat and...you decided to stop thinking about it. Your skin was already crawling at the feeling of a grease skid across your cheekbone. 

Instead, you wrinkled your nose up at him and showed him your thumb. Confusion and amusement furrowed his bushy eyebrows as you did this, and he looked from the thumb to you, as if wondering if it was something insulting or if you were just being wierd. You jut your chin out at him and you licked your finger. The realization lit up on his face almost immediately, but before he could scramble away you reached up and smeared your spit across his cheek, and had grabbed the other side of his face to keep scrubbing. All that grease on his cheek, just that little line on his cheek, came off, leaving a clean mark identical to your grease mark, as if you’d both traded a strip of skin. 

You let him go and he pulled away, scrunching up his face and whining like a child before being unable to stop another fit of happy giggles. When he caught his breath, he stuck his tongue out at you and snickered. “ _Gross_ , cooties,” he coughed, dragging out the words and wiggling his fingers at you like he was trying to magic more germs onto you. 

You couldn’t imagine the kind of germs that were on you because of him. 

But you laughed anyway, and the two of you traded remarks about hygine. He’d call you a well groomed poodle, you’d tell him he looked like he’d fallen into an oil spill. You ended it with a snort when you told him he smelled like trash, and he started off with, “Well you smell... “ He paused, and you waited with a quirked eyebrow. “Like...salt, n’ bread n’ stuff,” he replied weakly, giving a sheepish grin and shrugging. “I got nothin.” 

You opened your mouth to answer again when a door across the lounge slide open, and both you and Junkrat leaped into a panic. His eyes went wide and he dove behind the overturned table, while you stood up and nearly fell right on top of him, your leg jerking unevenly. 

It was Lena, she was walking with another tray of tea towards you, her eyes bright and happy, yet concerned all the same. Did Winston tell her about the issue you’d had together? 

You tensed as she saw the table, her eyebrows raising slightly in surprise. “Well holy cow, love, what’d ya go and do?” She held up the tray and laughed, “Uh, well I brought you more tea… if that’s okay. I thought you might like some since dinner’s a ways off and we interrupted your lunch. There’s a muffin here for you too, courtesy of Reinhardt.”

She gently stepped over to you, and handed you the tray. You were glad you put your hands under it. The moment she spotted Junkrat sitting on the floor, behind the table, legs crossed with his thigh on top, playing with the remains of his peg, she would have dropped it. She jolted backwards, a stream of light trailing after her as she ended up across the room again. 

“W-what in the...how did…?!” You held up your bad hand, feeling your fingers twitch as you balanced the tray on your other. You didn’t want her to go tell anyone or...or hurt Junkrat. 

Jamie seemed to be in enough of a frozen panic, staring at Lena like a deer in the headlights. He scrambled up onto the seat and his hand placed itself on the wall, like he was going to go for the window again. 

“Lena, wait!” You desperately wanted her to understand. She paused, her face pale. “He’s not armed, please don’t go tell anyone...he can’t even walk right!” She stared at his leg for a moment before slowly taking a few steps closer. You saw her reached for her hip, but her holsters were gone. That was probably why she was so jumpy. 

“H-how did he even get in here!?” She hurried over and righted the table so that you could put the tray down. When you did, she crossed her arms, nose scrunched in annoyance. “He’s going to get himself killed...or, or you are! He's dangerous, y/n! I..I should handcuff ‘im right now and call for Reinhardt or...something!” 

You stared at her, feeling desperation build up in your throat. You wanted to beg her not to, but you had a feeling that it wouldn’t do a thing good or a thing bad. You could see the gears moving in Lena’s head as she thought it out, as she looked at Junkrat...then looked at you. Her face finally softened as you locked eyes with her, and she shook her head. 

“Y/n, I’ve got to go get someone, we can’t have him loose,” she replied, and you felt yourself deflate. Loose. Like he was some sort of animal. That put bile in your throat. You heard Junkrat clawing at the window again, and from the corner of your eye you saw him looking around the room for another way out. Obviously there was none. You sighed and sat down, staring at the tea and the muffin. You didn’t have an appetite anyway.

When you looked up again, Lena was gone, and you heard footsteps coming down the hallway. Junkrat was digging his nails into the metal again, and you looked up to him. Putting him in a room alone...that wasn’t going to do him any good at all. You reached up a hand and put it on his arm, causing him to fall still and look down at you, his eyes wild. “Y/n,” he whined, flopping down on the chair. “T-they’re gonna separate us, t-... t-they better not hurt you, I-I’ll…” He was going through the emotions in his head, you could see it in his eyes. He was trying to figure out what to do when that door opened at Reinhardt came through, or even McCree or Winston.

His choice when the doors opened wasn’t exactly what you’d expected. You thought he’d go after them or hit the window again, maybe even bolt for the door as best he could with one leg.

But instead he just sat there, stunned. You stared at Lena as she zipped in, flashing towards you while Pharah hurried after her light trail. You saw Reinhardt in the doorway behind them, guarding an exit. You panicked, Lena’s fingers gently taking your hand as Pharah landed at your side, and moved for Jamie. Junkrat’s eyes locked with yours, and you shared his horror, and understood exactly what he was thinking. Not again. They weren’t going to separate you again. 

They couldn’t. Junkrat needed you there to keep him calm, and to keep him from freaking out or hurting himself or just hurting in general. And you needed him there because….because he was your friend, and he made you smile and he kind of understood you. Just a little. 

But they did separate you. Lena grabbed you and pulled you away from Jamie just as Jamie tried to reach out and hold you close. And you watched in horror as he scrambled after you and Pharah’s elbow bashed into the side of his head, knocking Jamie too the floor with a heavy thud. 

You screamed and struggled to get to him, but Lena held you back as Pharah took him off into the airship, right after handcuffing his arms behind his back. 

Lena finally let you go, but you were alone in the lobby, slumped over the floor and staring at the window where Junkrat had tried to scramble out, and the bench seat where you’d hugged and laughed just a few minutes ago. Now you too felt you were surrounded by the enemy.


	12. Like a Trapped Animal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning, there are some graphic descriptions of mangling, bleeding, and some more violent language in his chapter <3 just thought I'd let everyone know. 
> 
> I'd also like to thank everyone for their support! This is the first fanfiction that I've kept going for this long, and I credit it to all of you guys who have read this and left kudos or comments (I love me some comments!) So thank you for all of your love and support, and I plan on having many, many more chapters to this and to have this work completed entirely in the distant future.

His head just...ached. It felt like someone had put a bomb in his ear or knocked him upside the head with a plate of metal. Maybe they  _ had _ knocked him upside the head with a plate of metal? His forehead laid on something cool, calming his typical raging temperature a bit as he sat there. All the same he felt sick, like something was terribly wrong but he didn’t know, and couldn’t know, what. He opened his eyes, staring down at the stainless steel sheet that he was resting his head on. 

Hell, he wasn’t that comfortable at all, the more he thought about it. His lower back ached something fierce, like he’d been carrying Roadie all day, and his shoulders strained like they were being pulled out of their sockets, or twisted in a way they shouldn’t have been. Hell, even his stomach hurt, like he had eaten something rotten. The pain was an uncomfortable, piercing pain. 

He winced as a sharp jab found it’s way up his side and he jerked his arms to hold his stomach, squeezing his eyes shut and scrunching up his face. Something clattered, and his wrist throbbed as he jerked his arms again, but they didn’t move. Why…

Junkrat lifted his head, feeling like it was full of cotton, and stared at the metal sheet, which turned out to be a table. His wrists were tightly cuffed to their designated places, just in front of him in a way that was mildly uncomfortable on his shoulders. He sat up, and his lower back stopped aching, his arms relaxed. 

He supposed the damned cuffs weren’t meant for napping on the table or slouching over. 

Stupid cuffs. He jerked at them again, feeling his wrist ache, and hearing the other one click against the metal. And again. And again. There was a horrible red welt around his human hand, and he felt his fingers tingle as he pulled at the joint without concern for his well being. 

Why were they… why was he there? Why… the entire room tilted to the side, throwing him into a blind panic as turbulence caught the airship he was in. An airship. Overwatch’s airship. 

So he was a prisoner...he glanced around the room. A prisoner in an interrogation room. Shit, no. He had to get out. He had to get out and find Roadie in this place and…

“No, wrong,” he muttered to himself, a habit he’d picked up for when he was on his lonesome. “Roadie’s back at the ocean place.” He growled and pulled at the chains again, feeling his skin scream as he rubbed his wrist raw. This wasn’t going to work, he needed to get out but… 

He glanced down at his feet, seeing that his thigh was free, and his broken peg still attached, but his other ankle was bound to the leg of the chair...and the chair was welded to the ground. And metal. Iron to be exact. “It’s like they know what I’m fuckin’ thinking,” he spat angrily, glaring at the bindings around his hands. Well, one limb at a time. 

Why was he even here in the first place? He began pulling at the straps of his arm with his teeth. If he was here, there had to be a reason. Stupid memory. Stupid knock to the head jigglin’ everything around, knocking all the events out of line. 

“Stupid, stupid, bloody stupid,” he spat as he jerked his upper arm free, leaving behind his prosthetic in it’s chains, and began working on trying to kick his boot off. So he was at the sea place, with the ruins, and Roadhog and..

“Oh, hell. Y/n,” he whispered under his breath, hearing his voice hiss around the room as he froze up. She was here, in the airship. She was off somewhere, probably in another room like this or looking for him or worrying. He had to take care of her, she was his responsibility, Roadie had said so. And if she was hurt...if they hurt her… Roadie would never trust him with anything again if he fucked this up. And Y/n would never trust him, he had to...what if they were hurting her, or trying to get information out of her? Was that why he was alone in here?! They went after her first before he woke up? They were fucking wrong if they thought he was going to sit here and do nothing about it, then!

He kicked his shoe off with an angry shriek, and with a few ragged breaths, he clenched his teeth and pulled back. His shoulder screamed, and his wrist strained as he pulled at the stupid restrains. They clattered and clicked against the table as he tried to pry the stupid chains off of the cuff apart. If he had his other hand, damn if he only had his other fucking hand.

He screwed up his face and pulled again, feeling that same pain shooting up his arm and down his side. He tore through his wrist, the metal cutting the thin flesh around the area open and making the entire room smell metallic as it oozed through the wound. 

Another pull. 

Another pull, a twist. 

The muscle in his hand, near his thumb, tore and he screamed in pain, biting violently down on his lip as he felt like his hand was coming apart. There was a lot more blood now...it was starting to make a little pool on the metal table. 

But Y/n was out there, and she needed him. 

Another pull. 

He threw his body weight back against the chair, pulling away at his shoulder. 

Crack. 

His thumb, the joint that connected it to his hand, disconnected, and all the muscle that was in there had torn terribly bad, stretched and strained to the point of sending a searing hot pain through his head.

He heard himself screaming. His arm was free, and his hand slid through like a limp, sad dead animal, and his fingers spasmed in pain.

Now all he had to do was get his leg out. And he could go find her. And he could hug her and she wouldn’t alone.  _ He  _ wouldn’t be alone. He stood, and slammed his elbow against the table to stabilize himself. The sharp pain of the contact sent a wave of tingling feeling through his lower arm and hand. “Stupid. Fucking…” 

“Jamison Fawkes! Sit down. Now,” came a demand that cut through the roar going through Junkrat’s head.. 

The Rat froze and everything went silent, all but the ringing in his ears. His shoulders went tense as he heard the drawl echo around the room. 

Him.

“ _ You! _ ” He screamed, his head shooting up towards McCree, who was standing in the open doorway, looking white as a ghost and ready to heave. Little did Junkrat know, they’d showed up the moment Lena had noticed he was awake. She’d called for them frantically when he’d started to panic and pull at the restrains, but by the time they got to the window, they’d made it just in time to see the skin shred off of his hand as he jerked it out of the restrain. Mangled and numb. Lena had run off to be sick.

Behind McCree, was that stupid Mercy bitch. 

“Jamison we need to look at your hand,” she said quickly, and she too looked horribly white. 

“Bugger off,” Junkrat spat, lifting his broken peg and balancing it on the edge of the chair. He pushed, pulling at his foot and growling angrily with the pull he felt on his knee. “I’ll tear ya’ all t’shreds,” he heard himself roar. 

A strong pair of hands grabbed him by the shoulders and sat him hard on the chair. Junkrat felt himself jolt into a panic, and he spat in rage, spittle splattering the table as he struggled to be let go. 

Eventually, he felt himself still, breathing hard and shaking violently with adrenaline. His arm was spasming, but he couldn’t feel the muscles jump or clench in pain. He could barely feel past his elbow at this point. Whether or not he’d just ruined his last good arm wasn’t his first concern. Instead, he sat staring dead-eyed at the blood and spit that covered the table in front of him.

He glanced up, seeing Mercy slowly approach and reach down to touch his arm. He...couldn’t feel anything. He couldn’t feel her touch the thumb that sort of swung off of his hand, or touch the shredded skin that peeled off of his wrist and palm. He couldn’t even feel it when she moved that wrist, up and down. And he couldn’t pull away either.

“His arm is dislocated,” she said simply, “And he’s torn up all the muscles in his hand and his forearm. His wrist is cut very deep...he’s going to need stitches.” Stupid…

Junkrat jerked backwards, managing to drag his arm away, feeling it fall limply to his lap. He stared at it, his face emotionless. Suppose he really did ruin it. He’d have to make a new one but… He was stuck here. He’d get out and make himself a new arm then. So he’d try to get out again no matter what they decided to do. He’d try again when they left. He’d get the hell out and find Y/n. 

“Jamison,” she said, her voice loud and obnoxious. She waved a hand in front of his face and he winced, jumping to action and pulling against McCree’s arms, swinging at her...or...he thought he had. His arm didn’t move like he’d thought it would. 

“Jesse, he’s in shock. Can you please go get Ana and tell her to bring all of her emergency supplies? You can talk to him after we treat him,” she said with a solid tone. “And do not restrain him with cuffs again. Use something else. Anything.” 

And then she left him alone, and McCree slowly let him go. Stupid… “Are you done throwing a tantrum, rat?” 

Junkrat felt his entire body light on fire in rage. How dare this dickhead talk to him like that, after what he did! He made them all get Y/n, made them take her here. It was this bastard’s fault. All of it was this  _ fuckers _ fault. 

He threw himself up at McCree, who jerked away and just barely managed to get out of the way of Junkrat’s downward fall. 

Jamie hit the ground hard, his teeth clicking together painfully and biting his tongue. His entire body shuttered and he felt his ankle straining painfully against the restraint around it. He didn’t feel like he’d broken it...sadly. Then he could have gotten out and tore this asshole to shreds. “F...Fuck you!” He glared up at McCree, feeling his entire body tingle with the need to tear him apart. “I’m not gonna let ya’ hurt ‘er. Ya’ got that?! Bloody-fuckin’ drongos, the lot of ya’!” He pulled, dragging himself forwards and pulling at his ankle. The door opened again. 

A large hand reached down at set him back up in the chair, and for a long moment, he thought maybe Roadhog was here, and he relaxed, his eyes going wide. How did he...how did he get on the airship? 

When he was set down and he was allowed space to look about...to his disappointment, his Roadie wasn’t here. 

“Do I need to hold him down for you, McCree?” It was that stupid german asshole. The big one. 

“I gotta go get Miss. Ana to see to his self-destructing over there,” he sighed, gently nodding and turning to leave, looking even more disturbed than when he’d first entered. 

And so, The restraint on his foot was removed. He immediately kicked out, trying to violently move away from the big guy before he was… 

A hand reached out and pressed him face down into his own spit and blood on the table. He snarled, bubbles coming up from where he breathed out. He turned his head to the side, glaring up at the big guy who stared down at him with concern. Stupid...stupid concern. There was nothing wrong with him. He felt the blood and spit smear against his face, into his hair. 

“Hurt who, little Jamison?” 

Hurt…

His body shuddered and he felt himself grow frustrated, a deep ball of hate forming in his stomach. “Y/n, ya dickhead! I’ll kill ya all, all of you! I’ll send this entire damned airship to the ground. Where is she at?!” 

He stared at Junkrat, making him uncomfortable. That stupid staring, like there was something wrong with him. 

Him of all people, why would there be?! Nothing was wrong, except that these assholes had basically kidnapped Y/n!

“I will see what I can do to let  you see her,” Reinhardt said simply in his deep, hearty tone, “But you have to stop struggling and let the doctors fix what you’ve done to your hand.”

Negotiating?! Junkrat’s beady eyes glared up at the stupid fucker holding him down. 

To anyone looking in, he was an animal. He’d torn through his arm to get free, with blood on his face, spitting everywhere and snarling up at the one holding him down. He was about ready to bite into the throat of whoever came near him. 

He wasn’t human, not to anyone who might first see him. 

“Deal,” he heard himself snarl, his nose flaring as he felt the pressure leave him. He sat up, feeling spit and blood drip down his pointed chin and onto his lap. That was...going to stain his pants. “Roadie ain’t here to get that out,” he muttered to himself, staring at the few drops that landed on his shorts. 

The door was left open when Reinhardt left, leaving Junkrat to stare out into the hallway at the soldiers who would pause as they walked past to stare in before realizing he was staring back. Like they were at a zoo. 

He knew they’d just go to that mirror thing, the one way window, and stare some more. Why bother moving away from the door. 

After a while, he saw a blue cloak appear in the doorway, and that stupid Amari doctor lady, the old hag, walked in and spotted him with a gasp. Behind her was Mercy, her face hard with concern. 

“Jamison Fawkes… what have you done to that arm of yours?! Don’t you want to keep it? You’ve already lost one,” she scolded, like a stupid mother. Stupid mother bitch. 

“Bugger off, hag,” he spat, feeling a string of spit drip down his chin again. She winced away from him, and then… 

She looked at him with pity. A terrible expression to have, that stupid pity. Like there was something wrong with him. There was nothing wrong with him. He wasn’t the one tearing two friends apart. Where was Y/n, that big bastard promised to see what he could do. 

_ If he would let the doctors treat him. _

So was he not going to see until Junkrat was treated?! Or was he in the process of it or… Shit. 

So he was stuck with these two dogs touching him up. Ana was already on his left, looking at his arm. She was touching in here and there, and looking at him. He glared back, not even flinching. He couldn’t feel it anyway. She paused, looked ot Mercy. She looked back, looked apologetically towards Junkrat. He stared at them both, his head fidgeting this way and there. “What are ya’ both fidgetin’ abo-”

Pain shot down his spine, followed by a deep, hot pain running through his chest. Ana winced as he let out a bloodcurdling scream, jerking his arm away from her and holding it against his chest. He fell off into a silence, breathing ragged, pained breaths and whimpering around his arm. All the pain that was previously blocked out by the pain of his shoulder flooded up into his throat, choking him into… he just felt like crying. For Roadhog. Where was his Roadie when he needed a good patch up? Some of that gas stuff he had...that was the good stuff. 

He felt his arm slowly pulled away from his chest, and he hadn’t realized that he’d been struggling to keep it away from them...there were tears on his face too… 

All the roaring in his head faded and he heard them talking. “-Angela, you have to give him something for the pain. He’s not taking it well.” 

“His adrenaline’s going to kick in, he’s got a massive store of it. Otherwise he’d have never done that to himself in the first place,” she replied, “All I have is a sedative, and I don’t think that will help right now. I can send… Jesse! Go get Fareeha and have her found my pain killers, she knows what they look like! Mr. Fawkes needs them.”

There were clicks in the hallway, and there was… “This is going to hurt, Jamison.” What was going to hurt Jamison?

A hot wash of pain burned up into his shoulder again, and he bit back a wail as the world faded and spun. Within seconds the pain roared into a full on flood, and his glanced around the room, looking for a reason as to why everything was getting all foggy. There were a few more blurry words exchanged between the two women before Mercy’s face appeared in front of him… 

Man, he wished that face was Y/n’s. Then if she’d been there he wouldn’t have minded being all bound up that much. He’d have someone to talk with, someone who wasn’t looking to cage him and kill him. He’d be safe because she’d be there and he’d know she was safe...but she wasn’t. He had a weird gut feeling that she wasn’t okay. 

He jerked back as another horrible brine of pain shot through his arm, like a thousand god damned needles. He glared down at Ana...she was...disinfecting it? No, that was a needle or...was it? She was...burning it? Why...why was she doing that? It was making his entire head feel thick and blurry.

“Jamison!” His eyes flashed towards Mercy again. She was… staring at him, her eyes wide and worried. About what? Worried about what?

“Don’t pass out. You look very pale,” she said, her brown eyes stern. He just stared at her, feeling his entire arm spasm again and a new wave of hot pain shoot up his arm, making him groan.

He looked down at his arm, the wounds he’d made. Don’t pass out. 

Don’t. 

“Jamison!” 

The world fell around him as he tumbled off of his chair, his head giving a _crack_  off of the concrete floor; the world went black.


	13. The Definition of Home

You sat quietly in the lobby for a long while, maybe ten or so minutes. It was a long while in your own mind. In fact, it felt like an eternity at that moment. Especially when you knew they were throwing Junkrat in a cage somewhere. You just had a feeling he wasn’t going to wake up and be okay. You stared into the light gold color of your now cold second cup of tea, and at the muffin that had lost it’s warm aroma and was growing more stale with every passing second. Everything, including the food, felt hard and unfamiliar all of a sudden. It felt even stranger here than your visit to the other airship was. When you’d had a meal there, you’d felt a lot more comfortable in Junkrat’s room. And when you’d walked into the Talon airship, or rather, when you were escorted by a brute of a man in a black uniform, jerking your poor arm up your back; you’d walked in and you’d felt immediately like you'd stepped into a wonderland of technology, and strange blue skinned people, and into the land of Jamie and Roadhog. Sure, you’d been terrified, but it’d still felt less...

Intimidating, uncomfortable, and trapped. Like this one did. 

Had that been what Junkrat had felt in here even before you did? And yet he’d willingly fallen through the window and come in here, in this dangerous environment where he could have gotten hurt, like he probably was getting hurt now...for you. He’d come into this place, surrounded by enemies, for you. 

So it was your fault, in a way, that he was hurt, hurting, or going to be hurt. Instead of letting him in after you, maybe you could have immediately shoved him back out of the window or yelled at him or anything, anything to make him go. Yet you realized that he would have stayed. He would have stayed, and yet you still couldn’t anticipate how he reacted to you trying to get him to go. Sure, he’d stay and you knew that much, but… would he do so happily, or get upset or angry? 

You went through all of the times you’d tried to guess what he was going to do and been wrong. So many times, and yet other times you’d guessed him well entirely. When he’d tried to sneak more salad on your plate, or when he’d wanted to help you make your pile just right. Those times you’d been able to guess him well. Other times you hadn’t even expected his general reactions, like when he’d suddenly come out of the woodwork to catch you off of that cliff, or when he’d picked you up onto his shoulders to help you walk better, to help you keep up.

There was the other time, when you’d been heading to breakfast and Widowmaker had seen you. He’d bolted off without you and howled for you to keep up, while you had anticipated him to stop and turn and explain sheepishly. And the time during the fight, when you’d expected happy, smiling Junkrat to greet you when you’d knocked Jesse off of him. You’d been wrong then. You’d not expected him to pull you away from danger, pick you up like a child, make you sprint, or act so savage around you. And yet, all the same, you’d also not expected him to fall through the airship window.

What would he have done if you’d yelled at him? 

After all of that, after everything he’d done up until that point? Would he get mad or...would you upset him? Or would he think it was a joke? 

It was beginning to hit you just how unpredictable he was, how much you didn’t understand him and know him. 

But you knew that you wanted to know him. You wanted to be able to understand what he was going to do in the seconds before he did it, or even a minute before he did it. You wanted to be able to read the guy like a book, so you could help him and discourage stupid ideas even if he didn’t voice them. You wanted to sort of be like Roadhog. Roadhog did all of that, he could see right through Jamie. How many years had it taken him to be able to even do that? Five? Ten? How long had they known each other, anyway?

You frowned down at the muffin just in front of you, feeling a sudden ache in your chest. When Lena had brought it to you, she’d said she’d thought you’d like something to eat, since they’d ruined your lunch. What about Jamie? Were they even concerned about his well being? Were they bringing him muffins to eat, especially after all the work he’d put in keeping them from hurting you, hurting the airship or anything else he might have been protecting in that battle?

Lena had been right. She had ruined their lunch. And she’d ruined your appetite for dinner too. They all were beginning to make you feel horrifically sick. 

If you were home, back at home in Ilios with your mother right now,  _ not _ flying through the air in some Overwatch airship, you’d be insisting Junkrat eat something. He wouldn’t be in cuffs and he wouldn’t be dragged off down a hallway either. Jamie and you would be sitting at your table, and your mom would be making him a bowl of stew, with warm bread. And Jamie would know what real jam was, not jelly-jam from a plastic container. And it’d be hot, and fresh, not luke warm. He’d complain about there not being cake, and you’d have to give him more jam, and he’d complain even more, about how much less sweet it was, and how much more sour.

And Roadhog would be outside, working on his bike, or sitting at the table with you, eating a bowl of stew with a small spoon in his big fingers… 

It amazed you, really. How the two fit in so well as apart of what you’d once pictured as freedom from them. Before, it had been you going home, relaxing, your mother yelling, getting angry and crying and laughing that you were back, uninjured and back. 

Now, you realized, if you went home, you’d feel too empty to be happy. You’d have to bring Jamie with you, and with Jamie he’d bring Roadhog, and his big smiles and unpredictable attitudes... But would Jamie even want to go back there? His unpredictability worried you, as even if he agreed to a visit, you wondered how he’d act around your mother, or if he’d pick a fight with your brother or father. And would he even want to stay with you at home? Would he  _ like _ to stay?

You knew the answer to that one. You may not know a lot about the guy, but he moved. He moved constantly. He was always fidgeting and shifting his weight or swaying, or limping ahead in excitement, or turning and walking backwards to talk. Sitting in a house in one town, near the ocean was not moving. He wouldn’t want to stay, and you knew you couldn’t ever make him.

If Junkie didn’t stay, you realized that you couldn’t either. You finally had friends, even if you didn’t know either of them well at all, it was better than everyone who didn’t understand you back home, sitting doing nothing with your life. Junkrat knew at least a little of what you put up with. At the very least he knew about how you felt to have a limp, and a bad arm and leg. And at least you and Roadhog shared having to deal with Junkie on a daily basis, at least a recently daily one.

So you couldn’t stay home either, even if you visited and your mother begged you to stay. You couldn’t anymore. Your life would be boring back home, without Junkrat’s morning plans. You’d only ever been through one of them, but you already wondered about the next one. Sure, those plans scared you, but you’d never had plans before. You’d always had chores from your mother. When you’d gotten up and Junkrat had pulled you out of his room all excited, you’d been nervous, but that was because it had been new. Everything had. Looking back on it, it wasn’t so bad. Then everything hit a stand still went Reaper was put into the picture. 

You swallowed and felt the bruises around your neck, finger shaped and yellow, ache slightly. You recalled his words, what he’d named you and labeled you as. A brainless cripple. Mangy bitch...worthless. Worthless. Brainless. Cripple. The three words summed up what value he’d seemed to think you had.

So if he’d seen any value in you, would his answer had been different? What was valuable to a man like that? Junkrat was a cripple as well, without two limbs like you. And yet, he was somehow different than you were? How was insanity and bomb lobbing valuable, and what did it compare to? What could  _ you _ do? 

“Are you Y/n?” chimed a quiet call across the room, and your head quickly shot up. It was… nobody you knew. You frowned and crossed your arms across your chest, hunching down against yourself. You didn’t want to meet any new people. You wanted to disappear, and hope they went away.  

“Oh, please do not be mad at me! I didn’t want any of them to do that to Jamison,” she pleaded, clapping her tiny hands together and hurrying over in her big fuzzy boots. She had an accent, something cute and light like a flower. “I am so sorry that they hurt Junkrat, but are  _ you  _ okay?” She was closer now, in a nice blue tanktop with her brown hair all up in a bun. She was pretty, you had to admit that much. 

“Fine,” you replied stiffly, refusing to look at her anymore and show her any attention. Maybe she’d leave you alone then. All the same, you felt like a pouting child, but you really didn’t want to be talked to anymore. At all. “Leave me alone.” When had you become so bitter? You had always tried to be so nice to everyone, especially strangers. Your mother would be disappointed. 

She came closer, pushing up her glasses and reaching out a dainty, chubby hand to you. “I’m Mei… I’m sorry that you’re upset, but I’ve been told you need a room. I thought, maybe, you could have the empty one across from me?” Her face flushed and you assumed it was nerves. Was she anxious? “It’s right next to another empty room, actually two of them, on either side! So you would have privacy,” she said the last part quickly, her hand still held out to you. You looked at it, how her nails were painted a shimmery white, like snow. Her hand shook like she was cold. 

You sighed, and reached your own twitchy hand out to shake her shivering one. She held your fingers like they were made of glass, while you decided that her’s looked porcelain. You both gingerly shook hands, and then she stuffed her fingers back in her pockets. She was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants that had a logo printed on the right hip, and they were stained with what looked like something blue and a few drops of brown. 

She stood there, waiting with wide brown eyes behind those glasses of hers. She seemed… nice enough. Why not have a room, after all. It beat being out here, and once you got in there and settled in, you could demand to know where Jamie went, and you could go get him. Then you’d both wait until you landed next and be off of this stupid airship, and go back to find Roadhog. 

“Sure,” you murmured in reply to her offer, sighing and standing up off of the bench. You were shorter than her, but just barely. She gave you a quiet smile and gently stepped around and started back towards the hallway she’d exited. It was a different hallway from Junkrats, you noted. That was slightly upsetting. Though you knew he was porbably not being put in some nice room, just being told you were going into the living spaces, and being guided away from Jamie was nerve wrecking. 

You realized you’d paused and stared off at the other hall, and Mei was standing just off to the side of you, clasping her hands like a nice nurse or tourist. It took a moment for you to realize she was wringing them nervously instead. She smiled and waved at you to follow, so you turned away from Jamie’s hallway, and followed Mei into the sleeping areas, down a hallway with closed, automatic doors. Once you’d entered the hallway and left the lounge area, she began to speak quietly once more.

She began with a soft smile, “The room has a shower, and if you want extra clothes, if you don’t mind wearing mine that, I’m the same size as you just about, so if it’s okay… if not, don’t worry about it! I’ll find you something else, somewhere, I just… it’d be easier, I have some sweaters or something!” She stumbled over and defended her own words as she spoke, looking anxiously back at you with her face all pink again. You just stared at her for a moment, before she took a deep breath and waved her hands in the air a little, shaking off the nervousness she had. “And there is a television, and dinner is in a few hours, so you’ll be able to go out and to the left from this hallway, and get food in the cafeteria!” Left from this hallway? So Jamie’s hall.

“Are they going to feed him?” You heard yourself ask as you realized that he was closer to food than you were at the moment. 

She tensed and looked back at you for a moment, her wide brown eyes trying to process your expression. You felt rather defiant, and you knew you probably looked it too. “I see you care about him,” she said sweetly, “So you and me, together, can make sure they feed him,” she replied simply, smiling that calming smile again. You felt your shoulders relax, and you both continued walking. 

Mei picked up the conversation again. “I never wanted anyone to get hurt on this mission in the first place… then when I heard there was a hostage, u-um, that would be you… I got scared for you, I thought you were going to be hurt.” She stopped walking, clasping her hands nervously at her neck and glancing first to the left side of the hall, and then the right. She was checking the numbers, you noted, and after a couple quick steps to the next door on the right, she spun around and clapped, all while doing a little shuffle dance in her big, fluffy boots. “This is the room I told you about,” she explained, and she gently turned back to the door, her fingers moving expertly on the strange screen. She probably had more experience with technology than you’d ever have in your life. 

“As I was saying,” she gasped, the screen reflecting in her glasses as she spoke again. “I was worried you were going to be injured or worse!” She glanced to you, at your bent left leg, then quickly back at the screen. You looked at your leg as well, feeling a sharp pain radiate from under where the kneecap would have been, had you still had a kneecap there. The entire joint was bent awkwardly to the left, outwards from where it should have been. It made you limp, but nobody had seemed to even notice it when you’d arrived. You could only assume it was due to you being lifted, carried, and sat down for the past half an hour, or longer. It made you limp awkwardly, but not from the pain. It just felt strange to walk on a dead leg. The nerves had been pulled or disconnected somehow, which had never happened to you before, but that was certainly what it felt like. Every time you took a step, your toes tingled, and the nerves pinched and tried to wake back up, like your entire leg was asleep. What didn’t tingle felt numb. 

“But Lena came back and told me you were just fine, and I was so happy! Nobody deserved to be hurt in something like what’s going on. Especially someone who doesn’t know what’s happening around them,” she had continued on nodding to herself as she tapped a few last buttons and finally turned back to you, giving a small smile. 

“I hope I spelled your name correct. I just entered you into the system, so now all you have to do is put your fingerprint down on the screen!” You stared at her as she explained it, and then you looked down at the awaiting, blue screen. There was a small oval where it awaited to scan your finger. “Any finger will work, just pick one you’ll use most comfortably,” she encouraged. 

So you looked down at your hands, watching in silence as your right hand had spasms and the fingers fidgeted and quaked, despite you trying to hold them still. Your left hand was a lot less fidgety, and… real. In a way. You chose your left thumb, feeling most comfortable with that one, as Mei had suggested. 

So you pressed your thumb against the screen and watched as it calculated and scanned it in. It flashed green after a moment and the door gently slid open, releasing a foreign sound of metal sliding on metal. You stared inside, seeing the slate gray carpet and the white walls.

You must have concerned Mei when you didn’t immediately walk in. She tried again, gently touching your arm and smiling. “Whenever you want to go in, just put your finger on the screen and the door will open. It closes after five seconds without use- ah like that!” The door slid shut. “And, oh, I did tell you when dinner was, right?” 

You glanced up at her, nodding and staring back down at the screen. She was still for a moment, before she let her hand fall off of your shoulder and her kind voice spoke in a reproachful tone. “If you want to make sure that Jamison eats, you should talk to Mercy or McCree, since they’re keeping an eye on him at the moment. If you need to know where the cafeteria is, and don’t want to wander off alone, I’m just across the hall!” You turned and looked at her, and she was staring at you with sad brown eyes. That optimism seemed to have faded...was that your fault? 

You glanced behind you to the door with little snowflake stickers on it, and you nodded. She smiled softly, and turned to enter her own room. You put your thumb down on the screen again, and it slid open quietly for you to step inside. 

The carpet was soft, which was comforting, and as you stepped past the entryway, you noticed that the wall came out a bit further on your left to support a small closet, with a small fridge, and a microwave on a shelf inside. You found that rather convenient. And there was even shelf space, not that you’d be staying long enough to have anything to put there. 

The bed was up against the far wall, next to a screen that was set to look like it was a window. Had it not been for the glare of the ceiling light, you’d have been fooled entirely. 

The dresser was just in front of you, and doubled as a television stand. The television was a lot higher tech than your own back home. On the other side of the dresser was a doorway into what you assumed to be a small bathroom. The door was closed, but there really was nothing else you could think of it to be. 

And boy did a bathroom sound nice. You couldn’t think back to the last time you’d showered. Yesterday you’d planned on showering that night. This morning you woke up on a gross carpet. 

Two days ago? And after being hugged, carried, and generally around Junkrat. 

You felt disgusting. 

So you were quick to hurry past the television and the bed, and enter into the bathroom, where you stripped yourself out of your greasy clothes and dropped them heavily into the sink, so you didn’t have to clean oil marks off of the floor or anything. You started the shower, hearing the water hitting the blurred glass as it warmed up.

Soon enough, you were standing in the stream, and washing all of the day old sleep, smoke, sweat, and soot off of you with delightfully hot water. 

When you were finished washing your hair and relaxing in the stream, you got out and found yourself a towel while trying not to slip on the tile. You dried off, squeezing out your hair and towel drying it quickly so you didn’t drip everywhere. Then you supposed you’d deal with the clothes. 

You lifted them out of the sink, your towel around your chest and drapped to your knees so your arms were free. 

The smell of musk and smoke hit you in the face. Had you smelled like this the entire time? Had you smelled like Jamie for the past day without even realizing it? You had to have, although faintly in comparison to him, you had definitely smelled like Jamie. 

And now you didn’t. 

There was a knock on the door. “Y/n? It’s Mei, I brought you clothes, and thought I’d let you know that Reinhardt is looking for you…! Can I come in?” 


	14. Unstable

You frantically tightened your towel around you as she called out again, “Y/n?” You felt a wash of fear run through you like a hot flash. Let Mei in? You were in nothing but a towel, and you barely knew her! Your eyes flashed around the room for someone to go. You could cover yourself in the blanket or throw on your old clothes? What use would the blanket do, it was just a bigger version of the towel and you’d mess up the bed. And if you put the clothes back on you’d probably end up undoing your much-needed shower. 

You stared at the door again, then down at your bare legs. Why was Mei okay with it? You supposed there probably wasn’t much privacy here in the airship. Even if the rooms were all larger than your own room back home, heck most were bigger than your kitchen, and the lounge was bigger than your house, it was still all spaced so close together. You supposed people walked through the halls in the middle of the night in their pajamas and bumped into each other and all the rest. They probably knew everything that was going on with everyone else. You supposed if you paid enough attention you’d know too, but you were too busy worrying about Jamie to even try to move all your attention onto gossip and snooping.

You didn’t like to admit it, but you felt terribly embarrassed about her seeing you in just a towel. You hadn’t exactly tried to notice it as much as you did, but Mei was a lot more curved than you, with a nice hourglass shape while you...weren’t an hourglass shape. You were more average. You stared down at yourself, at your average chest and average hips and… crooked leg. It was starting to get a little purple around the bottom connection, you noticed. Which wasn’t good, you supposed but you’d have to deal with that later...just more to add to your gross appearance now, you guessed.

“Are you okay in there?” You jumped in fright as Mei called in again, her tiny porcelain fingers knocking on the metal. You supposed you had no choice, otherwise you’d have no clothes.

You nervously shuffled towards the door, trying to concentrate on keeping your towel up and moving steadily on your leg. You stepped up to the door, feeling a chill from beneath it brush your bare toes. You felt it much more on your good leg, your right one, while the other felt… just a little. Barely anything. You sighed and scanned around the frame of the door, looking for an switch or button to open it. You paused on a set of two buttons, one labeled ‘open’ and the other labled ‘lock’. You sighed, taking a deep breath and glancing over your shoulder. You didn’t want Mei to see you, no matter how much you tried to rationalize it. You looked to the corner wall that ended just a bit away. You could hide behind that if you were quick enough. You reached over and clicked the button in, and with a quick turn on your bad leg, you whipped around and stumbled behind the corner. There was a loud crack, and you stumbled, but you managed behind the wall.

“Oh, my goodness! If you didn’t want me to look you could have said,” she gasped, and you poked your head out to see her with her hand over her glasses and her other arm holding out a pair of sweatpants and a tank top. A tank top. Without sleeves. You supposed you couldn’t hide the joints forever... not from these people. “Are you okay? Did you hit your toe?” 

You looked down at your foot, at the redness of it. Had you done that? You stared at the corner of the wall, where you must have bashed your last three toes of your bad foot. All the same, despite how loud the crack was, your foot appeared okay. No break, no jam, that you could tell. And it didn’t hurt in the slightest. You couldn’t feel anything. “I’m fine,” you replied gently, poking your head around the corner again and reaching out the hand not holding your towel up to take the clothes from her. You spun around and remembered your manners.“Thank you.” 

You slipped behind the corner wall and dropped your towel around your ankles with a damp ‘fwump’. The door started to slide closed, but you heard the gentle plop of a hand placed over it to keep it open. You glanced towards the door before realizing it was probably still Mei,  She probably wanted to make sure the clothes fit. You struggled to lean up against the wall and slide first the pair of underwear over your legs, then the sweats. When you managed, you tightened the string that was on the inside of the waistband so they fit over your… average hips. 

You reached down to see the sports bra she’d also lended you. It was bigger than what you wore, but it’d fit. You slid it on, then the blue tank top, looking down at your strangely bare arms. You usually never went outside in such light wear, since the ocean breeze was chilly on any average day. One and a while it was warm enough to go out in a sleeveless shirt, and a windbreaker to fight off the damp ocean air, but that was usually only on the occasional summer afternoon. 

Your eyes skimmed down your shoulder until they fell onto your middle joint, your replaced elbow. The joint had a large bolt in the center where your elbow would have bent, serving as a pivot point for your arm. Connected to the pivot point were three different shaped plates of metal that slide apart and together seamlessly to allow your arm to twist and bend. It still worked smoothly, even though it was a little scuffed up from the last how many years of your life. The metal pieces ended about an inch or two above your joint, and then another inch or two below it. It was a rather small piece, but it was horribly noticeable. It was more narrow than your actual arm, which made it look like you had a metal skeleton, but had forgot to put skin over your elbow. 

The metal bar that had been put inside of the plates was bolted solidly into your bone on both ends, one into your upper arm, and one into the two bones in your forearm to allow you to swivel your grip. The procedure had burned and sewn your skin into the edges of the metal, leaving hideous scars on the sunken in edges, and cutting off some of your muscles and nerves. They’d stuffed as many veins and nerves as they could through the metal to connect your old, previously amputated and then reattached arm, so it would work again. 

Despite their efforts, the metal sometimes pinched a nerve or caused muscular discomfort, and because there was hardly any muscles in the elbow itself, straining the arm made your fingers spasm and your lower, basically dead arm cramp and twitch. Your mother had decided that even if the procedure had been experimental, it was all she could have afforded for you, and it was better than no arm, or a shattered elbow. 

You had a similar joint on your knee, and all the walking that was necessary for life caused an equal amount of twitching, spasming, and discomfort. 

“Y/n?” 

You lifted your head gaze from staring hatefully at the narrow joint, realizing you were taking a little too long. Mei  _ was _ still there, after all. “Oh, um, I’m done,” you replied briskly while self-consciously hugging your arm to your chest and stepping around the corner. You were embarrassed by the crude joint replacement, but there wasn’t anything you could do about it.

Mei was standing in the doorway, one hand on the door frame to keep it from closing, and the other stuffed in her pocket. Her eyes were wide and curious as you stepped out into view, and her glasses reflected you. You looked scrawny in her slightly larger clothes; the same clothes she filled out just fine. All the same, you replied with a disheartened sigh,”Thank you for the spare clothes, Mei.”

You stood there awkwardly as she looked you up and down, trying to determine if they fit right or not. You felt her eyes linger on your arm for just a moment longer than anything else, and your anxiety floored itself within a matter of seconds. If that was the only thing about you that deserved extra attention… you just didn’t feel okay in these clothes. 

“It’s not a problem, Y/n,” you heard Mei say, and you glanced up at her as she put her hand apologetically on your shoulder. “Well, you can get food any time now,” she began, her fingers sliding off of your arm as she stepped out into the hallway, leading you with a kind of conversational body language out into the hall after her. “And Reinhardt wanted to see you about something, so I told him that you would meet him in the lounge,” she informed you, her cheeks tinting pink as she quickly added, “Only if that’s okay with you.” 

You watched her as she gave you a gentle smile, and the anxiety and panic that had built itself up in your stomach began to die down. She seemed to know exactly what to say, or not say, at the right time. You gave a nervous nod and she began walking down the hall in those fuzzy boots of hers. You were barefoot, your heels sliding slightly on the ends of your much-too-big sweatpants that completely swallowed up any small, average body shape you might have had. 

You had no clue why you were even worried about how you looked at that moment. You hadn’t cared about it back home in the slightest, and now you were in a knot over it. 

You chalked it up to you being around new, different people and wanting to make a good first impression. 

“Y/n?” You looked up from where you’d been staring at your own toes and the back of Mei’s legs, walking after her step for step. You’d stopped when she had, but you must have zoned out in your own thoughts too much for you to realize that she was holding the door for you to go first, out into the lounge area. 

You stared through the doorway for a moment, seeing the exit door and the few windows that were all locked up tight. As you stepped into the big room, Reinhardt came into view, sitting at the same table you’d sat at before Mei had fetched you. Your tea and your muffin were gone, but in Reinhardt’s hands was a big, older looking novel. Reinhardt was holding it close to his face, and he was wearing a set of small reading glasses, much to small for his face. 

He was out of his armor as well, which put you off. You hadn’t expected him to be equally as massive under the metal as he was out of the metal, but there he sat, in a pair of hawaiian print shorts and a old, tight fitting Dungeons and Dragons graphic-tee. The graphic on the front was cracked and faded with wear. And Reinhardt was towering over the table like some kind of behemoth. 

You approached, and Mei shuffled audibly behind you. Reinhardt seemed absorbed in his book, which you couldn’t make out the title of with his fingers laced over it. You gently cleared your throat, “Reinhardt…?” 

His head lifted and his glasses flashed, one eye white while the other was a deep, comforting brown. You were met with a wide grin and a booming greeting. “Hello, little Junker.” He slowly put his book down, open, on the table while he shuffled around a few papers for a little slip of paper that must have been his bookmark. “It was...y/n, yes?” He closed the book, and you were given his full attention. 

You frowned slightly at him as he threaded his fingers nervously in front of him on the table top, before sliding them down into his lap. He seemed unsure of where to put his hands, or as if he’d never talked to a girl before. You assumed he was much too old for that, but you also knew that something was definitely on his mind. You had a feeling that it was about whatever he wanted to see you for. “Yeah, um… y/n.” Not Little Junker. Not like those crazy shits in Australia. You didn’t want to be called that: it rubbed you the wrong way. You didn’t need to be associated with Junkers just because Junkrat was Australian. It wasn’t like he was a Junker, killing and raping and...whatever else your brother had said they’d done. Right? Junkrat just robbed people and killed sometimes and… he was  _ not _ a Junker. 

Your stomach knotted in irritation at your own thought process, your mind stuck on repeating to yourself that he may be bad, but he wasn’t a monster. 

“Y/n!” He confirmed it with a hearty laugh, bringing you halfway out of your mental loop. There was still a nagging bite at the back of your mind that kept that same loop going. He wasn’t a Junker. That wasn’t Junkrat, you believed better of him.

You slowly stepped up to the other side of the table, pulling a stool out from the other side of it, where Winston had once sat. Perhaps not on the stool, but he’d been across from you like you were from Reinhardt at the moment. Mei flanked you and sat down at the second stool, delicately crossing her ankles and folding her hands neatly in her lap. She looked a bit worried, like something was about to be done, or said to you, that you wouldn’t like. You felt slightly put off, feeling an urge to stand up and walk off to avoid hearing whatever Reinhardt needed of you.

“I have news of your Rat friend!” Reinhardt started, and you noticed he was trying to keep it cheerful. You awkwardly reached up and hugged your chest, feeling a little better now that you had your arms in between you and the massive man. “He’s asked to see you.” His smile faultered slightly, and you felt a pinch of frustration build in your stomach. What was wrong with him asking to see you? Was it something wrong with Junkrat? Was he okay? 

Mei’s cold fingertips brushed your shoulder, and you glanced over at her to see her giving you a weak smile. You realized you’d dug your fingers into your arms, and your right arm was fidgeting with strain. You tried to force yourself to relax while Reinhardt continued. 

“I told him that I would see what I could do for him, so I asked Winston if I could take you to see him, and he said-” 

“Is he all right?” You couldn’t help but interrupt him. He was just talking and talking but you knew something was wrong. You had a feeling that Junkrat wasn’t as okay as Reinhardt had made him out to be. ‘Asked to see you’ wasn’t Jamie. You had a strong feeling that he demanded or panicked; you didn’t want to have him panic. You wanted to be there to smile and calm him and help him. He needed you there, and they’d taken him from you, and you from him. 

“It’s not fair,” you started again, cutting Reinhardt off from speaking. Both he and Mei had their eyes trained on you, both wearing confused expressions. You stared at them for a moment before realizing you had said that outloud, and rather loudly too. So you swallowed the lump in your throat and pressed on. “If he’s not alright. It’s not fair that you took him from me. He was fine where he was,” you said boldly. “So if he’s freaking out, then it’s not fair that you’ve done that to him.” 

Reinhardt looked pale. You felt like you’d hit the nail on the head. He swallowed hard and grumbled out a stressed sigh. He reached a hand up to rub his face, before leaning over the table and staring you in the face. You waited, but you were feeling your bravery begin to fade as you made eye contact with him. Finally, he spoke, his voice low. “Winston told me you didn’t seem to understand. I will not lecture you, but understand that we had to take him off, little Junker.” 

You set your jaw, but he held his hand up to stop anything from escalating, or you from saying anything. “He is being seen to by Miss Angela and Miss Ana, there was nothing any of us could have done for him that he will not let us do. That is how he is.” 

You clenched your teeth and felt the urge to shout at him.  _ How do you know what he’s like? What did you let him do to himself?! This is all your fault! Whatever’s happened this is all your fault. He was fine with me! _

You felt something terribly wrong in your stomach. If he was being seen to by one medic, and another person you didn’t know about, he was hurt. Or sick. Something was wrong. 

You pushed yourself up with your arms, wobbling on your unbalanced feet as your body adjusted to the permanent limp that Reaper had given you. 

Mei stood up with you as you began to straighten out your shirt, and she carefully put one of those cool hands on your shoulder. You winced at the chill, but you fell still, crossing your arms over your stomach. This wasn’t fair. Mei was coddling you like some child and Reinhardt was treating you like you didn’t understand anything happening around you. But you did understand. You understood that they were treating Junkrat like an animal. He wasn’t some animal. 

“Take me to him, or I’ll go find him myself,” you muttered, shooting Mei a glance. She just nodded and you heard her shuffle around to your other side. She looped her elbow under your bad arm and carefully lead you to the left corridor, the door they’d taken Junkrat down. Behind you, you heard Reinhardt slide his book off of the table into one hand, and his heavy steps followed after you in a familiar way. He was like a bigger, more german version of Roadhog. Only slightly bigger. Roadhog was pretty massive too. 

“Y/n,” you heard Mei murmur at your side, and you glanced up at her as you passed through the doorway and started down the wide hall. She was looking down at you with her bottom lip between her teeth. You couldn’t possibly think of what she was nervous about at the moment, but you let your mind wander for a few moments before realizing that you were probably going to go past Junkrat on your way to the cafeteria. “Remember, we’re going to bring him food, okay?” 

You furrowed your brow, and she took a quick breath before continuing, “So we have to go get the food first.” Her eyes flashed ahead and a light above caught her glasses as you passed by it. 

You turned away, facing ahead again and staring down at the tiles as you walked along the hall. There was a few moments of silence before you heard a conversation start up just in front of you. It sounded like… Jesse, and Pharah. 

Jesse was murmuring something in his southern drawl, a cigar in one hand and the other placed lazily on one cocked hip. Beside him, Pharah was in a more casual wear now. She must have gone and changed between when she dragged Junkrat away from you, and when you’d been taken to your room. She was in a hoodie that was a dull tan color, with some words on the back that you couldn’t read since the hood was in the way. She was wearing a casual pair of jeans, her hands on her hips as she listened to Jesse talk. 

As you and Mei started to near them, Pharah glanced to you from the corner of her eye, and her hand lifted up to hit Jesse on the shoulder. McCree paused and muttered an ‘ow’ around his cigar, reaching a hand up to pathetically rub his arm while he turned and looked over his shoulder. 

When he spotted you, his eyes went wide and he seemed to immediately brighten up. “Speak of the devil’s devil,” he huffed, turning fully away from what looked like a window. Mei’s hand nervously waved in your peripheral vision, and you watched as Jesse gently tipped his hat forwards towards you both. “M’ladies.” 

“I was just talkin’ to Faheera here about the little rat here.” 

Your eyes went wide and you jerked against Mei’s arm, but she held you still, her eyebrows creased. You glared at her and then stared in at the glare of the window, unable to see inside from this angle. 

Jesse didn’t notice your strain against Mei. He continued. “And how he keeps askin’ for ya and he’s hardly even conscious. What’d ya do to make him like ya’ so much?” 

“H-hardly conscious? What do you mean, what happened?!” You felt a pit form in your stomach and Mei gently nudged you forwards, pushing you away from the window and clueless McCree, who was now getting a scolding from Pharah on how to take a hint. Reinhardt paused behind you to calm the two down, but you were dragged off down the hallway again.

But you’d passed the window just close enough to get a glimpse at the Australian, and it was one that burned in your mind just like the first time you’d saw him did. This one was much less pleasant. Rather than Junkrat and Roadhog on their bike, Junkrat staring at you with wide eyes, it was Junkrat sitting in a metal chair, in front of a metal table. He was being held back by his throat and Angela was trying to get him to down some pills. He was obviously refusing, with his other arm trying to claw at her face. Another lady, one you didn’t recognize, had been holding his arm back from Angela, and the two looked like they were struggling horribly against the rat. 

And Jamie did not look well. He looked pale, and the left half of his face had been covered in red. For once, you hoped to god it was someone else’s blood. The red was all over the table as well, where his metal arm rested, disconnected from his body. 

You hadn’t seen much else, but you had to agree with McCree. He looked half out of it. Was he really asking for you still? After whatever had happened to him? Had these people hurt him so bad he’d passed out? You felt betrayed by them. They’d first seemed so nice. 

Then they took Jamie from you, just for him to be hurt like that.

You winced as Mei gently tugged at your bad arm, causing your fingers to fidget and cramp up. She apologized quietly and slowly let your arm go, but she caught your attention. You and her had stepped into the cafeteria, where it was slightly larger than the Talon one, but with the same basic items. Trash cans, tables, and a line-like fashion for getting your food. Mei was quick to pull you up towards a cart with trays on it. 

In front of you, a few soldiers were going down the line, serving themselves food and then shuffling or limping off to sit down and enjoy their dinner after what you assumed was a mission well done. None of them seemed to take notice of you, and they all parted off into their own little groups. You realized that you didn’t have a group, as Mei gently passed you a tray. Your group was Junkrat and Roadhog. And you couldn’t get to either of them yet. It felt like a punishment.

Reinhardt had caught up with you at this point. His heavy steps announced his presense in the echoing cafeteria, and you turned over your shoulder to watch him walk into two double doors, into what you assumed was the kitchen. 

“If you want,” she said, “I can help you carry Jamison’s tray. I can always come back and get my own food after we take his down to him.” She said it so casually that it upset you. That same knot of frustration coiled in your stomach, making you realize just how ruined your appetite was because of all this stress. All the same, you nodded and you turned to start down the line of food. You carefully picked out what you thought he’d eat, and would be good for him all at the same time, which was difficult.

You were coming to realize what Roadhog had to deal with constantly, and why he just picked up the simple stuff and forced Junkrat to eat it. Finding anything he might like was a chore. “Hey Mei, if it’s okay I’d like to sit and eat with Jamie,” you heard yourself mention as you picked up a wrapped sandwich and put it on the tray Mei was patiently holding for you. She must have realized how weak your arm really was, and thought it best to help so you didn’t end up trays down on the floor. 

Your comment made her hum quietly, and you decided it would be best to continue explaining. “It might make him more comfortable..and I just… I think it’d make me feel better to talk to him, too.” You waited, staring quietly up at Mei’s wide brown eyes while she pursed her lips and her narrow eyebrows twitched with concern. Finally, sigh released a sigh and gave you a nod. 

“I don’t think there’d be a problem with it,” she told you. You couldn’t help but smile and that made her smile too, so you continued to walk through the line until you found enough for Junkrat, and a good amount on your own. You’d picked out a sandwich and some fries for Junkrat, along with a few cookies, a piece of cake and a bottle of water. It had passed through your head to get him all his nutritional needs, but you had come to the conclusion that you weren’t Roadhog, and that you might as well be the one who let him eat junk, and leave the healthy stuff to Roadie. 

On your tray you just had a half sandwich, some fruit, and a bottle of water as well. It was plenty for your currently tight stomach. “That should be okay…” you turned nervously towards Mei, feeling suddenly awkward that you were getting food for yourself and Jamie, and Mei was tagged into helping. You felt like you were causing her troubles, however you reminded yourself that she’d offered to help, and you tried to push back that guilt and anxiety. It wasn’t worth any more stress to think about dumb things like whether Mei wanted to help or not. She  _ was _ helping, and you were thankful for it. 

“Thank you, Mei,” you said, realizing you’d not been very kind or had many manners over the past ten or so minutes. You felt bad.

Mei’s bun bobbed slightly as her head shifted to look at you, her wide eyes owlish behind her glasses for a moment before she realized what you were thanking her for. “Oh, no, it’s not any problem, y/n. I want to see Jamison get fed as much as you do. I just hope this will help get his strength back.” She chuckled and nodded, pushing her shoulders back proudly. You had a feeling that she was the kind of person to be willing to do any little thing to make any small difference. You...you like that about her. She was a good soul, as your mother would say. 

The two of you started out of the cafeteria with your food, and you tried to come up with something you’d say to Jamie when you got into the room with him, and gave him his food. 

You started off thinking you’d walk in and put the food down and ask him how he was, thne you realized how offensive or upsetting that question could have been for him at the moment. He probably wasn’t good at all. Instead, you thought you’d go in and you’d tell him to eat some food to get his strength back. Then where would the conversation go? You’d want to talk about what happened, and you certainly wanted to talk about getting him out of that stupid room he was stuck in. There was absolutely no reason for him to be in there. You could offer him to stay in your room; after all he slept in a blanket on the floor so there wasnt any use in giving him a different room with a useless bed. 

You and Mei were approaching Jesse again. Pharah was nowhere to be seen at this point, so you assumed she’d gone off to do something better than to watch the medic and the women struggle with Jamie. In her place, was the older woman you didn’t know. She had the same kind of eye-tattoo that Pharah did.

As you neared, she examined you closely, but McCree only gave you a glance, and there wasn’t any more eye contact after that. It was different from your other times coming up to him. No M’lady, or kind hello or smile or anything. So you frowned and walked up next to the cowboy, and you stared into the window in front of you both. Jamie was half passed out again, struggling against Angela weakly as she was wrapping his arm in gauze. It looked...swollen. 

“Um, Jesse, can I go in?” You turned and smiled up at him. You knew what you wanted to say to Junkrat now. You’d ask him what he’d done to his arm. You were worried about it, and that worry sat deep in your chest. So you’d get that out of the way, make sure he was okay and do whatever you could to help. That was the first thing you wanted to talk to him about when you went inside to give him his dinner. 

“No, y/n, you can’t.” 

“Wait, what?” It was Mei, her eyes wide and shocked as McCree answered. “Reinhardt said that Winston said it was okay!” 

“Just got word from Soldier. He don’t want her to have any contact with ‘im. I'm sorry, little lady. I can take that food in for you though.” 

You…

You couldn’t see him? 

You stared up at McCree in silence, feeling a cold trickle of reality run from your head to your toes. They were just going to rip that away from you? You'd been inches away.

You could feel the hard stare of the older lady watching you, but you didn’t care. Your fingers gripped your tray and you felt a hot wash of temper rush through you.

“Now, y/n, it ain’t my fault,” you heard Jesse defend himself, but you couldn’t help yourself. You shoved your tray against McCree’s chest, passing it off to him violently before turning and pushing past Mei. You couldn’t be around them anymore. They made you sick.

All they were doing was hurting Junkrat. It was unnecessary, and it was putting you on the edge. They weren’t even allowing you to see him now? You couldn’t hug him or make him feel better he was just going to sit there? In emotional distress and physical pain?

As you hurried back towards the lounge so you could go hide in your room, you heard a soft whisper behind you in a strange accent. “-Unstable…”

This entire place was leaving a rancid taste in your mouth.


	15. False Promises

That entire uproar had made his heart ache, like the girl had reached out and crushed it. Jesse stared down at the tray of food he’d been thrust. The water bottle had tilted over, and the fruit was scattered across the tray after being disrupted. The sandwich was undisturbed, and he was white knuckling the edges of the damned thing. She was mad at him. Poor little Y/n was angry with him, and it  _ hurt _ H is teeth clenched around his cigar and he drew in a deep breath, filling his lungs with smoke, and his brow furrowing as the door clicked shut to the lounge. It wasn’t his fault.

He turned over one shoulder and stared down the hall after her, as if there’d be footsteps or a trail after where she’d vanished to. But there was nothing but the faint noise of the other hallway’s door clicking shut behind steel walls. McCree felt like absolute shit.

This wasn’t fair to her. He couldn’t give a damn about the rat, but the girl was being put under way too much stress. She was going to snap. That sweet little face and the innocent personality was going to be crushed under anxiety and she was going to snap. He’d seen it happen before, but mostly to all the new Blackwatch soldiers that didn’t come from criminal scenes. It was always a shove-in from the overwatch lackeys. They were told they were going to become special-op and they jumped up like it was going to be a piece of cake. Ah, spying and assassinations, how easy, right? 

So they came in excited, then Gabriel Reyes would shut them down, put them through hell, until they snapped. It was never the crying either. They’d cry all the time during training. They’d cry and beg and have their pride torn out of their sore limbs while Gabriel’s boot pushed down on their back, and he yelled at them to do another set of a hundred. They didn’t snap in a way that involved breaking down into tears. It was when they were out of energy to cry and out of emotions to show that they snapped. Usually it was in the middle of Gabe yelling in their face about something; to do better, to stop fucking around, to start taking it seriously, stop being a little bitch. Stuff like that.

Then they’d nail Gabe straight in the jaw, or the nose or the mouth, and then Reyes would knock them flat on their asses and throw them out of training to cool off for a bit. After that, they were usually as stone-faced as anyone could get. 

Y/n was going to snap like that. She was already tearing up when he’d told her, and he’d seen it happen. That was the worst part, seeing how he made the cute little thing cry. He hoped he’d be able to keep anyone from making her cry again. He wouldn’t be able to handle it if he had to see it happen. She was just a little lady, and if they kept putting her through shit like this, and if she kept having to get caught up in Jamison’s bullshit, she was going to snap.

Jesse just hoped it wasn’t at anyone other than him, Mei or Lena. He was sure that the three of them could handle her and calm her down, but if she went at Soldier or Ana, or even Pharah, she’d be bound up and locked behind concrete walls like Fawkes was right now. Then not even McCree could help her.

“Ana, you do not know anything about her! None of us do, you cannot just falsify orders like that because you do not want something!” McCree’s eyes shifted off of the fruit on the tray, to Mei. The girl was yelling at Ana, who stared silently at her with furrowed eyebrows. 

Ana had told McCree to deny Y/n’s accepted request to see Jamison. She hadn’t explained, but she did that damned thing where she smiled at Jesse and stated that she knew he would do the ‘right thing’. He hated that. It made him feel like he was forced into doing what they wanted. He’d never been good under pressure like that, since he’d never been given that kind of pressure at all. He was always ordered around and threatened. He’d handled that his entire Blackwatch career from Gabe. He knew how to handle that; with a smile and a tip of his hat. But the ‘do the right thing’ shit that Ana liked to pull? He couldn’t fucking handle it, and it usually worked on him. He hated it. And now he felt like he was going to hell because of how he made Y/n feel. 

“I  _ do  _ know that Jamison has been convincing enough towards her that she thinks he’s a decent human being,” Ana spoke strongly. “And because of that I don’t think it’s a good idea for them to have any contact. He could convince her into doing something stupid. He’s rubbing off on her. That outburst was proof enough of it.” She had her lips pursed solidly. Ana had experience with lots of things, but this was a whole different category. McCree had his own doubts that she really knew Y/n despite just meeting her.

“She could just have a temper normally, Ana, you don’t know that,” McCree heard himself sigh, turning to stare in at Junkrat through the one-way window. The australian bastard was lying his face down on the table, with his arm all wrapped up. Angela was putting ice packs around his wrist, taping them down so it was like a cooling bracelet. Her fingers were bandaged and she had some scratches on her face from trying to get Jamison to take the pills. She’d ended up having to tranquilize him so he didn’t gouge her eyes out or bite off her fingers. After that, it had been easy to get him to take the pills but hard to keep him from choking up all the water or spraying it out of his nose. They’d had to give it to him a little at a time so he didn’t breath out or in at the wrong time. It had been upsetting to watch, to say the least.

Mei was staring in at them as well, having stepped slightly closer to the window. Her face was twisted into disappointment and concern. She turned to face Ana, then glance at McCree, and he tilted his head to hide his eyes from her. He didn’t need to see that kind of disappointment or disapproval on the lady’s face. He felt bad enough.

“You just ruined her entire night, Ana. You too, Jesse! You shouldn’t have done that! She was looking forward to seeing Jamison since you took him from her, and I even promised her things that you just made me break!” Mei sounded like she was going to cry, like she felt guilty too. 

McCree winced away from her at the thought, realizing how much his decision to listen to Ana had hurt Y/n and Mei. He stared quietly down at the tray again, feeling his stomach twist with guilt. Damn it all. The poor girl was probably upset enough after having been taken from home, then taken from the other airship like that. He didn’t regret taking her in, but he’d also not expected Junkrat to follow her into the enemy airship. 

And he wanted to keep her from Jamison too; he didn’t want the damned Junker to hurt the poor girl, but he just wished there’d been an easier way to do it besides tearing her away over and over. Like shooting him in the head and throwing his body out the cargo hold, or something. She’d never know. And then she’d forget about it and live out of danger. 

No pretty lady like her should be in an airship with a Junker and a bunch of illegal crime-fighters. She should be back home, doing whatever it was she did. Shop with friends or go to the beach or read. Or something. 

“Mei’s right,” Jesse finally sighed, looking through the window again as Angela began cleaning up. She was wiping the blood off of the table with disinfectant and a disposable wipe. “I’m sorry, Mei, I’ll go apologize to her and let her know it wasn’t your fault or anything.” He set the tray down on the little lip that jutted out of the window. 

“McCree, don’t you tell her she can go in and see him after that. Winston has to do a background check on her first, I’ve already sent Faheera off to get one done. Until we know her full story, she is not to have any contact with Mr. Fawkes. And especially not afterwards, if we find something off.” 

Jesse looked up and stared from under the rim of his hat at Ana as she scolded him. He hated being talked to like that by anyone, but he really didn’t feel like taking that from Ana in particular. He had respect for the woman, and he was sure that she knew what she was doing and thinking, but nobody could scold him like that. Nobody but one person had that right. 

“Could you shut it for once, Ana? I won’t tell her she can go in and see him, and I’ll let you do your check, but I ain’t makin’ that girl feel like crap.” He grabbed the sandwich and the water off of the tray and turned on a heel to start down the hall with long strides. As he approached the lounge door, he turned over his shoulder and puffed, “Mei, mind feeding the rat? Might as well let her know he’s at least got food.” 

The door slid open, then clicked closed.

\--------------------------------------

You were struggling to remember which door was yours as you limped heavily down the hallway, past various doors that looked exactly like one another. You knew that yours was plain, instead of having some of the adornments a few other doors had. Your door wasn’t the one with the posters all over it, and it wasn’t the one with the scribbled-on whiteboard on it. It definitely didn’t a piece of notebook paper taped onto it that read reminders for training, written in hard, but neat, handwriting.

You sighed and stood still, feeling extremely frustrated with yourself. You figured you had to start somewhere, so you traced yourself back to when Mei was showing you to her room. Was it on the left? No, it was definitely on your right, and it was across from Mei’s. You knew that standing there wasn’t going to help you any, so you started pacing again. You were starting to feel extremely irritated with yourself for not memorizing the number of the room, and that frustration was making you want to take off and sprint, make your legs burn so you could think about anything else. Your thoughts were going in loops, and the loop was making you feel worse and worse. It was a never ending thought cycle of what you could have done instead of run away from your problems. 

You could have demanded you be let in, ask why, or even ignore him and ask again, or go in anyway. But no, you ran away. You ran away from your problems instead of dealing with them head on, like you always did. You ran away.

And boy did you wish you could run back. A full on sprint, to forget your problems. It was the first time in a long time that you’d ever wanted to run. The last time you remember was when you cried to your mother that the other kids wouldn’t let you play tag because you couldn’t run like them. And now that feeling was coming back, but even if you could run at all, you were on an airship. You couldn’t get to any of those places you wanted to go. You wanted to run home, and you wanted to run to the ruins. You wanted to run to the beach, and to the other airship, and to Yaya and your mother. And the only place of any one of those that you could possibly run to, if your leg weren’t so ruined, was Jamie. You wanted to run to Jamie, but there were two complete bullies in your way. Stupid McCree and that old lady.

Why couldn’t all old ladies be as nice as Yaya?

You frustratedly stopped again, and slapped your hands against your thighs, glancing towards the doors around you. You found yourself staring at the cute snowflake and snowmen stickers stuck to the door to your left. Wait, that was Mei’s right? And Mei’s was across from yours. You let out a stressed sigh, reaching a hand up to run through your hair to try and calm yourself down. Now you could stop running around. 

You turned to the door opposite of the wintery door, to room 16, and you put your left thumb up against the screen. It scanned it, and you were let in. 

When the door closed behind you, you felt the urge to throw yourself on the bed and cry. 

So you did. 

You took the few uneven steps to your bed as your nose burned, and by the time you threw yourself against the covers and found a pillow to hug to your face, you were already letting out body-shaking sobs. They made your shoulders jerk, and you struggled to find your breath through the fabric as you let out your frustrations from the day.

First of all, you woke up feeling grimy as hell, to a bomb going off in Junkrat’s stupid room. Then you were lead out into the lounge where Widowmaker decided to chase after you, and you were forced to run because Jamie fucking left you. Then you ate stupid, gross Jelly-Jam and hard, luke-warm toast. Then after that you were dragged out to the ruins for Jamie to show you some stupid explosion that you didn’t want to see, so you ran off and almost fell off of a fucking cliff. That one was kind of your fault.

Then when you went back, Reaper tried to kill you, broke your knee, and these Overwatch assholes crashed in and hurt your Jamie and your Roadhog,  _ your friends, _ and caused you nothing but problems. Junkrat freaked you out during the battle. Like  _ really _ freaked you out, and after that you were brought outside to sit next to stupid Jesse McCree with his white teeth and happy eyes and stupid cowboy hat and southern american accent, where you were then taken by Reinhardt and kidnapped for the  _ second time  _ in two days. Reinhardt busted up Jamie’s poor leg, and you were torn away from Junkrat for the first time involuntarily. Not to mention they completely ruined your lunch.

After that you were sat down with a giant ass ape who decided it was necessary to tell you that both of your friends were absolute shit people, and made your entire life feel wrong. Then Junkrat came through the window and the damned thing took off, so you had to keep him from pissing himself because they seperated you both from Roadhog. Then Lena just had to show the hell up, and see him and Pharah had to take him away from you for the  _ second time _ in one day. Why did they do that?! It all would have been okay if they’d just let him stay there, or landed and put him down. Then Mei comes in and lets you shower and wipe off all of the smells that made you smell like Jamie, and change your clothes and make you look awful in them, and feel awful and cold and disgusting. Then she promises you that you’d feed him  _ together _ , and Reinhardt says you can see him, then they decide to just rip that away from you. Stupid McCree and stupid Mei and stupid old lady. They hurt Junkrat too…so badly. He looked so unhappy in that stupid room.

You felt a cold ball of steely hate forming in your throat. You’d never felt such strong hate towards anyone else before. Nobody had ever been that cruel to you. 

A tap sounded at the door, and you felt your sobbing immediately sputter to an end. You wanted them to go away, so you fell silent. If they couldn’t hear you, they couldn’t know if you were there.

Another knock, and this time there was the gentle breath of a sigh and a hopeful call, muffled from the thick steel. “Y/n, it’s Jesse… I brought your food.” He fell silent, waiting for a response. He had betrayed you. You didn’t want anything to do with him. “And I wanted to say that m’sorry. I really am. And it wasn't Mei's fault, she's mad too.”

You didn’t have the heart to reply to him. You had a strong feeling that he really did mean it, but all you could think about was what hell Jamie was going through just then. Was he going to be okay? Were they going to let him go even after you landed, or at all? Your heart seized. These people were after Talon members, so would they even think twice about locking him up for good? The image of Jamie behind bars, clawing at the corner and twitching like he did flashed into your mind. 

You couldn’t let that happen to him. You wouldn’t be able to look at yourself in the mirror if that happened to the one person you could call a friend. The first new friend in the last few years, and the only one you had with you. The only one that would invite you to do stuff. A true friend, not someone who said hello on the streets. And he didn’t seem that much older than you, compared to all of the older women who loved you like their own daughter. It was different. He was probably around your age, despite the hair loss and how sunken in his eyes were. 

He was your first real friend in a while. 

There was another hard knock, and McCree’s voice wavered as he called again. “Are you okay in there? Y/n, can you let me come in, please?” He was starting to sound frantic, and you realized you were probably making him worry more than anything. Your hopes of making him go away flew out of that television-window screen and you tore your eyes away from the tear-stained pillow to look to the door. You supposed he could come in. You had wished you’d said all those other things to him, so this was your chance. 

You stood up and shuffled to the door, heaving a deep, stressed out sigh. “Coming,” you muttered under your breath as he knocked again. You wished he could have a little patience. Your nerves were already fried.

You reached out to shakily press the ‘open’ button, watching as the two halves of the metal doorway slid apart. They revealed an anxious looking Jesse, standing there in his jeans and his cowboy boots. He had a sandwich held between his pinky and ring finger, with a bottle of water grasped in his first three. The other hand was raised up to hold the frame of the door, as if to stabilize himself, or prepare to knock again. 

When he saw you, his face slowly relaxed and he let out a deep sigh. “May I?” He straightened up and gave a small motion into the room, asking to enter. You were silent, as if you were weighing your options. Really you just didn’t have the energy to reply right away. You gathered it up and shrugged, shuffling yourself back to the bed. Jesse’s boots clicked on the tile in the hall, before being dulled by the carpet in your vacant room, making the clatter of his spurs more prominent. You threw yourself onto your bed with a heavy sigh and a dull ‘whumph’ as you heard the door slide closed. 

“I, uh, brought your food. Your fruit kind of got all over th’floor, though.” The thuds and clicks of his boots stopped, and the bed dipped near your feet as he sat on the edge of the bed. “You should at least drink some water. You look pale…” 

There was a crinkle of the aluminum wrapping of your sandwich and the popping of your water bottle settling next to you on the bed. You stared quietly at your pillow as you hugged it to your chest again. 

The room fell silent all for the slight shifting of the bed as Jesse moved or leaned this way and that. The air kicked on with a quiet breath after a few minutes, and then after ten, McCree spoke again. 

“Would you talk to me, please? I’m sorry we couldn’t let you in t’see him, and it was completely my fault, but I’d like to try and make it better,” he sighed heavily and you glanced over to where you could see the tip of his hat and the scruff of his beard from the corner of your eye. “I can’t do that if ya’ don’t talk to me.” 

You sighed again, and decided on what to say. He wanted to apologize, but there really was nothing he could do. He wanted to make it better, but what could he possibly help you with? What was the one thing you wanted? Did you want to go home, or be left alone? Maybe get some answers, or an explanation, or even to see Junkie? 

It was a lot more simple than that, you realized. You just needed someone to listen to you for once. And understand. 

“You can’t make it better,” you puffed, hearing your own voice in your head due to how plugged up your nose was from crying. “You’d done nothing but make it worse.” You heard him start off talking again with another apology, but you cut him off. “Everybody’s just made everything worse. When it’s about to get better, it all just goes wrong.” 

He was silent after that, realizing that you needed a few minutes to just vent. “And everyone’s telling me that they know Junkrat, that they know he’s going to do this, or do that. That they know he’s going to be a problem, or that he’s a bad person. And when I try to insist that he’ll be fine with me, or he’d be fine doing this or that, nobody listens!” Your mind flashed back to when they first took you from Jamie, then Jamie from you. Between that, Winston had given you that stupid lecture about Talon and Overwatch.

“Reinhardt decided to tell me that you guys couldnt do anything for him that he wouldn’t let you, because ‘that’s how he is’?!” You threw your hand out in front of you and sat up, feeling an anger rising in you. “How do you know?! How does anyone know?! I’ve been with him for two days and I can’t even predict what he wants for food, other than something sugary! Nobody knows him, so you guys can just shut up about ‘how he is’ and ‘just what he’s like’!” 

You turned and glared at McCree, who was awkwardly scratching at his beard, staring down ashamedly at his lap. You were both caught up in a pool of silence before another surge of passion bubbled out of you. “You all weren’t the people who had to see the look in his eyes when Pharah took him away from me. And now all you’ve done to him is hurt him.” 

You stared solidly at McCree for another few moments before dropping your gaze as well, and releasing a heavy, depressed sigh.

McCree picked up for you in a gentle tone. “Now we’ve dealt with Jamison quite a bit, Y/n. Ah, don’t say anything, let me speak.” You closed your mouth. “We’ve dealt with him quite a bit in a battle field and interrogation setting. Ain’t none of us ever seen him so fond of anyone like he is of you. Not anyone but Rutledge, that is. So you’re right, maybe we ain’t got a clue about what he’s like around you. But one thing I know is that he does seem calmer around you than he is in that room…” 

You glanced up to see McCree standing, placing his hands on his hips and cracking his back. “Now,” he sighed, turning to slowly saunter to your nightstand. He picked up your alarm clock and looked it over as he continued. “You just eat that sandwich and drink that water and have a nice sleep.” He clicked a few buttons as if tinkering with the thing before putting it down. “I’m sure you’ll feel better early tomorrow morning.” He looked to you, and you felt a confusion fill your thoughts. He was just going to leave you with words that every stupid parent told their kids when they had a rough day? As if that was supposed to help!

You glared after him as he walked to the door, his cowboy swagger irritating you to no end. Who did he think he was?!

He glanced over at you, “I really do hate to see a pretty lady all worked up...get your rest,  Y/n.” Then his fingers hit the open button and he was gone. 

You stared at the door in silence, before turning to stare over at the alarm clock. What the hell was wrong with that guy? You reached over, picking it off of the night stand. 

He had set the alarm for 1am. 

What the absolute hell was this guy trying to do? 

You reached over to grab the food you’d left. 

As you nibbled on it, you realized something. Just the way McCree had given you a small smirk before he’d left. That asshole. 

It just made you trust him. And you hated that. But when you were done with your small meal of water and half of a sandwich, you did as he’d suggested, and you climbs under the covers; after figuring out which button on the wall was the light. 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

The alarm woke you up, as expected, but your body rejected being torn out of it’s sleep. Despite the aches you felt up and down your back, and the chill of the room around you, you still got up. McCree had set that alarm for a reason, and you were going to find out what. 

Just as you stood out of your bed, there came an nearly inaudible knock at the door, then another small one, seconds after that was a bit louder as if the person thought the first one was too quiet; they didn’t dare a third. 

You shuffled over towards the door, the carpet feeling cool against your one feeling foot as you neared the metal door. There was a draft coming in from the cold hallway that chilled your toes, like it had when you’d first gotten out of the shower. You reached out and opened the door, watching it slide apart to see McCree, with one bandaged arm hung around his shoulders and… “Oh my gosh,” you whispered, putting your fingers to your mouth to keep quiet.


	16. "Look at You Two"

You stood in your doorway, the chill of the hallway blowing through your thin pajamas; they were just the clothes Mei had lent you. Jesse McCree was standing, facing you in the doorway. He had tried to save you and keep you protected during all the drama going on in your life within the last two days. With Jesse, was the Soldier who had once furrowed his forehead under that strange mask of his, and held his strong and steady hand out for you. Soldier had once picked you up and carried you out of the battleground. While the goal had been to protect you from Jamison, and that goal had been unnecessary, he’d still been so kind and sturdy about it all.

Now, he shook like a leaf, hanging pathetically off of McCree’s shaking shoulders. The pair looked ill. Soldier 76’s face had deep claw marks on it, with blood caked to his bare skin like face paint. He held an expression that was screwed up in agony, his eyebrows meeting his nose and his eyes closed tightly as he tried to cope with his pain. You knew that before, Jamie had blown a hole in this guys back, but was he really still in so much pain from that?

You knew the answer with a second glance at him. Blood was seeping straight through the bandages that were around his chest and back. Fresh wounds were gashed through the bandaging in the front with something sharp, but crude. You couldn’t see his back, but the way the poor man hunched over, and with how Junkrat was, you could tell that his healing had been ruined, and the wound had been reopened. His arm was bandaged roughly, with fresh blood dripping down McCree’s shirt from it. You could see where the bandages didn’t reach, that it looked like someone had tried to shred his skin off with their nails.

The pair of them had torn up, soot stained clothes. McCree wore a pair of pajama pants that were a dark red and brown shade of plaid. He had a shirt that read “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy” on it that was torn down the side. You would have laughed at the phrase had you not been staring at two people on death’s doorstep. McCree was also wearing...dragon socks. That were put on wrong. The colored heel was on the front, and they were all clumped up like he’d put them on in a hurry. You pursed your lips awkwardly as you tried not to linger on it; it didn’t matter.

What mattered right now was what happened, not why a cowboy was wearing dragon socks of all things. “What happened to you two?” You questioned them in a quiet voice, feeling it disrespectful to talk loud at this time in the morning, even though it appeared nobody was sleeping anymore. How could they? McCree and Soldier were horribly wounded and…

God, the smell of blood was starting to make you feel sick and lightheaded like during the battle. You reached a hand up and pulled the hem of your shirt to your nose, breathing through it in hopes of filtering out the smell.

_Thwump._

Soldier hit the ground, and you felt your feet leave the floor for a second as you jumped in shock. McCree struggled awkwardly to lift him back to his feet, but he appeared to have completely blacked out, interrupting whatever answer McCree might have been giving you.

You watched as McCree ushered over another man from just out of your immediate sight. “Han’ can ya’ give me a hand with Jack..? He’s decided to take a load off at the wrong time…” You stared at the approaching man.

He was rather short compared to McCree, with his hair up in a tight bun. He had grey clumps of hair near his ears, and he had a worn face, like he had seen too much, experienced too much. He was shirtless, with a crazy dragon tattoo up his left arm. You couldn’t help but stare at it for a little too long as he shuffled around Soldier to get a good angle to pick him up. In the process, he slide a bow around his chest to hold it, and you noticed that he was wearing a pair of boots; cowboy boots. He had arrows stuffed into the sides of them as if he hadn’t had time to fill a quiver for himself. You took a moment to try and connect the dots. Dragon tattoo, dragon socks. Literal cowboy, cowboy boots. Did these two have bunk beds or something? Were they weird brothers of some kind? You doubted each of those but could come up with no other, solid answer that sounded any less ridiculous.

Han’ leaned down in front of you, and you glanced down at his sweatpants, the only other piece of clothing he was wearing. The ends were stuffed into the cowboy boots, and as he bent over you had to stifle an inappropriate giggle. The butt of the sweatpants read ‘SEXY’ in the color pink. You were starting to get the picture.

The two men struggled due to Soldier being slightly taller than them both, but they worked flawlessly together to set him in the most comfortable way possible in between them. McCree carefully adjusted the gun in his waistband, aiming it carefully away from anything too precious.

You noticed quietly that McCree’s arms were torn to hell as well, but bleeding less since most of the deeper scratches had caught the upper side of his arm, not the inside of it.

Han’ wasn’t injured, but you assumed he was more of a ranged person, staying out of the way. He had a bow, after all.

“Well?” you murmured, feeling a deep pit of concern for the men in front of you. You didn’t even know one of them, but they all seemed shocked by whatever had happened. You wanted to know.

McCree stared at you for a long moment, and you saw his chest heave in a deep breath. You pursed your lips as he began, bracing yourself. “Hanzo went towards the kitchen for a bowl a’ popcorn, and on his way back, Jamison’s door was open.” You frowned.

But that would mean that someone opened it from the outside? Jamie wasn’t strong enough and didn’t have the materials to bust it open. Besides, he’d have blown the whole airship down. Being a ‘master’ at explosives, you’d hoped he’d known that. You trusted that he knew that. “No noise, no nothin’, just the door open, and that little shit gone.”

“Han’ made his way back to our room and let me know, so I got up and went through to the rooms to alert everyone of the breach n’ next thing we all know the med-bay’s filled with snarls and screamin’ from Soldier I went to help him to find the rat trying to set up a bomb in there and having a brawl with Soldier here. Put him in terrible condition. So I dragged Ju-”

“Jesse,” came the soulful voice of Hanzo, who hadn’t spoken yet. “You need to get to the point, there is little time to tell the whole story.” You looked to the stranger, and but he had his eyes on the hallway towards the lounge, keeping watch.

McCree’s sigh brought your attention quickly back to him. “You’re right, darlin’ sorry. Long story short, lil’lady. The rats gonna blow us all to bits if he don’t get to see you. He’s throwin a rather big tantrum about it, said he’d blow the head off of the next person who walks in and isn’t you.” He frowned and reached his free hand up to scratch his beard. “We came t’ask you if you’d like to give him that visit now. If you can get him to calm down, he can stay with you in you’re room..”

At one in the morning, when McCree had set your alarm, go visit Jamie. Was… “Did you plan…?” You trailed off, appalled at the idea that McCree would put everyone in danger for you to visit Jamie, but he just slowly shook his head.

“Was gonna invite you to a movie night with me and Han’ here...just had to get popcorn. Thought you’d like it maybe...old westerns, that kind of thing? Ever watched one?”

“Jesse.”

“Right, sorry. So, yes or no, m’lady. Y’comin’?”

You stared at the two of them, feeling a sadness welling up in your chest. He was going to invite you to a movie? You hadn’t really seen many movies in your life, since they’d never interested you too much, but you really felt honored. At the same time, you didn’t know if you could be okay with sitting down and watching something without Jamie there to watch too. You wanted to watch a movie with him, so you’d have to mention it later to him so he knew.

He probably wouldn’t sit still, but you had hope.

But right now there wasn’t movies to be watched, there was an Airship filled with bombs that you and three of your new friends; you glanced at Hanzo and decided that four was pending. Your first friend was ready to blow the place up if he didn’t see you.

And they were asking you to go in there and calm him down. Calm down JAmison Fawkes while he was in a mindset that shredded up Soldier 76’s arms and face, and McCree’s arms as well? He was acting feral, so they were telling you they needed you to go in bare-arms to tame a wolf. No, not a wolf. A Coyote. You swallowed hard.

All these people. These amazing people. A behemoth of a man, a miracle worker of a doctor, a bowman, a cowboy, a soldier, a time-traveler, hell even a talking gorilla and a flying, jet-pack using woman.

And they had to ask you for help to calm down Jamie, who just needed a tight hug and some fresh air.

You nodded your head after the long time you took thinking. “Yeah,” you said, and both McCree and Hanzo let out a deep sigh of relief.

“This way,” Hanzo said, pulling the three of them along as well as he could; he being the least injured of them all. You stepped from your room, your bare toes hitting the cool ground outside, but only one feeling it. You limped after them, on your way to the end of the hall by the door.

You weren’t sure what to say, as always. It was like it was a puzzle trying to figure out which thing to say was the right one around Jamie. You still had no clue how to assume he might react. He was just erratic.  

In front of you, Hanzo was using his free arm to pull his bow off of his shoulder, trying to one-hand an arrow as well as you approached the doors into the lounge. Voices began echoing up in front of you in soft murmurs.

“Reinhardt’s up and moving. Angela is helping him get his armor on in case we need him.” It was Pharah, she was in a tanktop and she was wearing the bottom half of her armor; obviously the only thing she had time to put on. As you approached, you noticed Lena, the old lady, and Mei as well.

It didn’t take long for them to notice you; and the old lady was the first. “Jack! Put him down, he needs to sit still.” The two men paused and after a moment, they managed to slide Soldier 76 against the wall, and set him down.

“Ana, you best get to work on his back first. It’s mighty torn up, right along that wound you and Angela fixed up before.” McCree said, rubbing the back of his head and self-consciously adjusting the revolver again.

Ana, that was her name. You pursed your lips at the thought, and no matter how badly you wanted to be polite, you just couldn’t push back the hate you felt for this woman. You turned your attention to the door. Just behind that was the lounge, where Jamie was. Unbound, not behind a stupid window. Just a door, behind a functioning, unlocked door.

You took a deep breath, feeling the nerves start to work themselves into knots in your stomach. You hoped he was okay. You needed him to be stable enough to reason; did he pass that? Had he ever passed that? Not in your presence, at least.

“Y/n!” It was Mei, her eyes wide as she crossed to you. Lena followed, in a pair of racecar pajama pants and a her usual upper-body armor with her glowing chest thing.... Her hair was a mess, more so than usual. Mei was in sweatpants and a shirt like you were. You were basically twins in clothing, though her hair was up in a messy bun without that usual ornament, and yours was not.

“Are you alright? You ran off, I-I’m sorry! I didn’t think- I would have if... “ Mei looked ready to cry, like she’d truly upset you. You were feeling better after sleep, and though you still felt a cold anger towards Ana because of how she appeared to act before you and distrust you, and you felt a twinge of irritation with Soldier for that order he’d given out… it was no longer in a whirling storm in your gut. It was more or less laid flat and bare.

“I’m okay, Mei. It wasn’t your fault,” you assured quietly, giving a small smile, thought you weren’t feeling too happy. You were nervous for what you had to do.

An arm gently set itself around your shoulders, and you looked up to see McCree, his hair in his eyes as he stared down at you with a wide smile. “Lil’lady here is gonna walk in and see the rat. Ain’t that right?” He gave your shoulders a reassuring squeeze, and you felt small porcelain fingers take your hand. Mei squeezed you too, her hands clasped over yours supportively.

You stared from them to the door, to Lena who was looking worried and ill prepared if something went wrong. She wasn’t armed, that was for sure. Ana wasn’t paying attention, and Hanzo had nocked an arrow, ready to draw and be prepared.

You took a deep breath, “Yeah.” Mei frowned and squeezed your hand again, but she said no more, and instead the two people you felt were your greatest friends in this group gently lead you to the door.

How was it going to be in there? A mess? Covered in gadgets and bombs? Your lips curled into a concerned frown. How would Junkrat be? Sure, he was livid, but was he a mess? Was he injured, crawling around on his broken leg still? Was he armed, unarmed? Was he still sick looking?

McCree’s hand shifted in your peripheral vision, and opened the door with a click of a button.

It slid open.

And you were pushed forwards by a strong arm, while glassy, cold fingers gave your hand a last squeeze.

You stood in the room, and you heard a metal hand gently place itself on the doorway. You took a glance behind you to see all of them staring in at you, waiting.

You turned back to the room with an awkward shift in your weight.

There was a big creation against the door, one about the size of a regular chair, with wires and batteries sticking out of it here and there. It had a wire that coiled out and vanished into another doorway. It was clean...and quiet.

You turned to scan the room, giving a frown. “Jamie?” What were you so afraid of? It was your Jamie, you knew he wouldn’t hurt you.

But the room radiated hostility, and it sent chills down your spine.

You heard a click behind you, and you glanced back to everyone staring into the room. Hanzo’s arrow was pointed, McCree’s revolver at his hip.

And you suddenly realized why Jamie wasn’t coming out. He knew they were there. You frowned and stared around the room. “Jamison Fa-ah!”

A huge weight slammed into your side and threw you to the ground. You hit the floor with a _thwap_ and you felt your head spin into a faded blackness.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Gunfire clattered somewhere nearby, like a game show wheel going too fast; the gunfire didn’t sound real enough to be actual guns.

That was until you heard a high pitched shriek, and the muffled _crrrack_ of a familiar bomber lobbing what you assumed to be a firework of some kind. What else made that noise? The splintering of wooden beams in a house fire, a broken branch, the rapid popping of homemade popcorn?

There it was again, another whoop, and then a click and a series of crackles. It was so far away sounding.

You swallowed hard as you felt a lump of panic rise in your throat, and the moment you did, your ears popped and it all exploded into regular volume. Your eyes fluttered open to stare up at the ceiling of the room, feeling a sudden pressure build across the bridge of your nose, into your temples, and all the way to the back of your head.

It felt like someone had taken a metal pipe to your skull. Or a floor. Your mind thought painfully back to the shove to your side, and the crack against the tile. Definitely a floor, you sighed, trying to take a deep breath to perhaps push it all away. You hoped to god you didn’t have a concussion, but you already weren’t feeling too well. You felt dizzy from just opening your eyes to try to get your bearings, and you were feeling a bit nauseous from the pain, and what you assumed was the smell of smoke.

You slowly reached your hand behind you, struggling to find the floor; when your fingers pressed flat against it, you pushed yourself up as slowly as you could manage. Your skull pounded and you put a hand to your temple, feeling a vein throb under your palm against the pressure you felt just behind your eyes. As you touched your fingers to your temple, the pressure relieved, and you brought your other hand up as well to rub relaxing circles into your temples.

There was a second or two where you felt better, but another hard crack made the floor shake and your headache scream. You let out an unintentional groan, squeezing your eyes shut once, then twice to try and push the pain away.

When you opened your eyes again, you looked up to see Jamie standing a few yards from you with his leg ducttaped together again. It wobbled awkwardly as he walked, however it appeared decently solid. His arm was still bandaged up, but the other was attached again, and his bandaged hand loosely held what looked to be a small, crudely put together bomb. It consisted out of a lighter, a strange bag of ball-shaped dust, and what looked to be a shredded newspaper wrapped all around it into a sphere.

Junkrat was standing at ready, facing the door where you’d entered. It had a dent in it, however it was closed, and the panel beside it was blinking a bright purple. Jamison was breathing hard, his entire body shaking with anger and adrenaline, and his hair wild about his head. He had his face scrunched up like a wild beast, with his sharp nose wrinkled, his prominent eyebrows furrowed down, and his lip curled angrily into a snarl, showing his sharp canines and that one gold tooth. He reminded you of not a rat at that moment, but a lion. He would have been radiant had he not looked so furious.

The room was as it had been before, however you now saw the problem, staring quietly at it from this angle. Around the doorway was a series of bombs, each timed up to one another and on a single wire. That wire connected up to a detonator that you saw was in Jamie’s hand. Had anyone else truly came through the door that wasn’t you, he’d have pulled that trigger, and sent you all to the ground in a fiery heap.

Another few thuds came from within the now closed door, before it all went still, all for the concerned, hushed tones of Angela cooing the wounded.

You turned your attention to the snarling man in front of you, how he was tensed, ready to leap or fidget at any second. His fiery eyes were darting around the room now, making sure it was safe before those eyes fell on you.

He must have perfectly mirrored your expression; deer in the headlights, eyes wide, mouth pursed in concern, though you were sure your’s was in pain. “Y/n…?”

You realized you’d spaced out, jerking back into the present to see Jamie kneeling in front of you. He leaned closer, trying to catch your eye with a desperate look in his own. The closer he got, the more you could smell the dried blood, medical ointment and grease covering him. He looked distraught, “You’re not hurt, are ya’?”

Were you hurt? Your head spun, your leg was starting to ache again from the fall, despite not being able to feel anything, and you were sure you’d janked up your elbow. You stared down at yourself, at your elbow, which was fine, and at the covered portion of your bent up leg. You felt bad, but you didn’t want Jamie to worry.

So you looked up at him again, trying to focus on his blurry face. “I’m okay, Jamie.” You watched as he relaxed, his broad shoulders slumping and a smile spreading across his face. That radiant smile again; it brought you into one as well, feeling your cheeks ache. He was okay too. You were both okay.

“I was sure they’d had ya’ somewhere, but I needed ya with me. Now we can get out of here,” he said, his eyes flashing mischievously. You felt panic fill your chest, but he already seemed to know what you were thinking. He was up, on his feet and pacing the room in awkward steps. “So, now that step two is done, get the girl, all we gotta do is hold these guys out of this room for a bit. Ya’ followin? Then we just have to wait fo-”

“Junkie,” you said, your eyes diverting nervously to the ground. You were here to get him to calm down. They said they’d let him stay with you, so you could be safe, and Mei would help him get clothes, and they would clean him up; maybe you could get him to shower.

“What,” he said in a dull tone, staring at you with an expectant expression.

“They wanted me to come in here to stop you,” you whispered, feeling tears sting your nose as his face slowly grew horrified. You had to stop him. He could hurt Mei and McCree and Hanzo. You didn’t want them to get hurt.

Jamie’s brow furrowed down so far his eyes were shadowed over like a horror movie, and he shook his head. “You can’t do that. You said it yourself, y/n,” he stated harshly, “We just have to figure out how to get back to Roadie. And I did that, and you’re taking their side?!” You winced, watching him scrunch up his face again and angrily clench his fists. “Is that how it’s going to be? You’re just going to betray me?!”

“Jamie they said they’d let you stay with me, in a room and you’d be left alone,” you insisted, but he cut you off with a splat of a wad of spit to the floor in disrespect.

“And ya believe ‘em?! They’re gonna bind me up ‘n take me ta’ that room for questionin’ again, and put me on drugs so I can’t fight back, sheila. It’s not gonna change! Now, with my plan, we can get outta here, and go back to Roadie. Oh, what! Did they tell ya’ they’d let us outta here too?” You tensed, realizing that no, no they didn’t. He nodded in emphasis, “Exactly, sheila. Come on, just help me out. We’re friends...roight?”

You realized he was indeed right. “Right,” you replied, pursing your lips. You’d probably be taken to a base or something, and Jamie would be put in jail, and you’d be left alone with all these people who hated you. Mei and McCree would have to understand.

That made that smile come back, the one you loved so much. You smiled awkwardly in return, feeling your world lurch slightly, but you managed to stay sitting up without falling. Your head was really starting to ache with all of this thinking. Maybe a nap would be good, after you got out of here.

Jamie went off on a tangent again, a new fire lit in his eyes, “So we wait for the computer wiz to get the ship low enough, and then _BLAMO_ bust out the doors, jump to the ground, and make a dash for it before they all get out and run after us. The genius says Roadie and the boss are waiting for us just on the ground!”

Who was...wait, who?

The speaker crackled to life. _“_ Attention, can I get your attention, _por favor._ This ship is now taking an unscheduled landing at just about a mile ahead. In other words, hang on, _pendejos._ This is going to be a rough landing.” The woman over the speaker had a spanish accent, and spoke with a smug tone to her voice, you wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d been smirking.

Jamie seemed to vibrate to life, his plan all coming together as he gripped the detonator in his hand, and started towards you. “Can ya’ stand? We gotta get a move on once we get low enough,” he said, his eyes flashing deviously.

All you could do was nod and nervously start pushing yourself up.

Your world tilted, and a hand latched around your waist, bringing you close to the hot skin of Junkrat as he caught you. You looked up to see concern knitting his brow together, but he said nothing. The two of you limped awkwardly towards the front doors, to the big bomb he’d put up there.

The sounds of what you could only describe as a computer glitching out emitted behind you, before gentle taps of footsteps approached you. You and Jamie glanced behind you to see a woman in purple, her hair swooping down her right side and what looked to be some kind of gun at her side.

“Aw, look at you two, such a cute couple!” She smiled at you with the same menace that you saw of Jamie’s face many times before. You half expected Jamie to shoot something snarky back, but when you looked up at his face, he was bright read.

“Roight, sure, when’s the ship goin’ down.” He wasn’t looking at you, instead staring at the latina woman slowly pacing over towards the window.

She was silent, and Jamison took the liberty of glancing down at you and muttering, “Ya’ hang on’ta me, sheila. Ya’ look like you’re about ta pass out.”

“Right about…”

You both looked over towards her as she began backing away from the door, checking her imaginary watch.

“Now!”

Jamie’s eyes lit up and he shrieked in excitement.

_Click._

_Crrk._

_BOOM._

Your ears rang in pain and the world vibrated at the force of the explosion. In front of you, the door crumbled like a sheet of paper, flying outwards from the airship and tumbling towards the ground. Alarms screamed, fire blared in front of you, and shrapnel scattered about as the door just behind you shredded itself under the intense pressure of those explosives that Jamie had set.

There was a scream; quite a few actually. You forced yourself not to look back at what might have been a group of dead people you once knew.

Jamie’s entire body tensed as he discarded the detonator, and you felt like you were on a roller coaster as he dragged you to the open door. His arm jerked at your ribs like a harness, and within a second, you were both free falling, his arms wrapping around you tightly to try and pull you close and protect you.

You glanced around, at all the flying bits of metal.

At the fire raining down.

At the ground.

At the-

“Shit, shit, shit!”

_CRACK._

Pain lit the right side of your face, and Jamie’s arms were torn from you as the world flashed out of existence.


	17. Good as New

“No, no!” He felt the freezing air in front of him being ripped away as another piece of that damned shrapnel fell past him, having taken Y/n with it. His entire body jerked forwards and his momentum was spun about like he was rolling down a hill. Little scraps of metal pricked his skin as he fell into the cold night, while the precious bundle he swore he’d protect was getting further and further away from him. He frantically tried to keep himself from tilting, to switch his center of balance or something. Eventually he slowed his spin, somehow with his flailing arms and angry shouts, and ended up with his back down, facing the ground. He glanced to his right, seeing Sombra and her stupid teleporty thing already further down and on the ground, while he and y/n were a good ten seconds from ‘splat’. Stupid tech-wiz, outrunning all the metal and fire, unlike Junkrat himself and… 

“Don’t get distracted... gotta find Y/n,” he breathed, turning his head awkwardly and trying to look around as the wind wiped his greasy hair around his eyes. He caught sight of something blue in the dark distance. He squinted, feeling a dull ache of hope as fire fell past it and reflected off of that metal arm she had. She was...so far away, so limp looking.  Her hair was whipping up and around her face and… he couldn’t. Five seconds till splat, and she was too far away. 

He felt his own hands reach out and grasp pathetically at thin air as the wind began to change from the sounds of fire, to the sounds of deadly metal scraps tearing into the ground as they hit soil.

Three.

Two.

One.

He felt was he’d expected; big, bulky arms pulling him out of the air with a heavy grunt from catching his momentum. Junkrat’s eyes stared up at the falling metal and fire as the airship’s trail of smoke drifted off, leaving the airship to crash further away at some point. 

The second thing he’d expected was the thud that echoed off of the ground, heavier than the metal. It pounded through his chest, like a last heartbeat, or the final pat on the back. Y/n had just landed somewhere in front of him, past his foot and his screwed up leg.

“Junkrat.”

She was just a mess on the ground.

“Junk.”

He didn’t want to look, he could just smell the blood already.

“Jamison!” 

He jerked into the present, though fear of seeing his responsibility all broken and bloody in a puddle in the burning grass was too much. He closed his eyes and felt a panic rise in his throat like bile. “Roadie, I couldn’t keep her,” he heard himself whimper, hearing his own voice crack as those big arms safely tucked him against Roadhog’s well muscled chest. His long skinny body was engulfed in the protective embrace, other than his legs dangling halfway out due to his massive height. 

He sat in the comforting hold of Roadhog for a long while before the brute gave a grunt, and Jamie felt him suddenly move. A thud landed near them, and Junkrat awkwardly peered out of the arms of his big, dangerous angel to see a big piece of metal where they once stood. 

Still, there was silence. 

He’d failed. 

She was dead, and there hadn’t been anything he could do to change it. He didn’t try hard enough to keep her next to him, he knew that. And now she was gone. 

He squeezed his eyes shut and felt a horrible feeling rising up into his shoulders and making his chest tight. He let out a horrible, strangled sob that shook his shoulders and made his body break out in tremors all over again. He had expected tears, but there weren’t any, and he wished they’d just come out already, because maybe then he’d feel better. He’d be able to let it all out, like he was cleansing himself with the stupid salty things; but the tears wouldn’t come. Jamie buried his face into Roadie’s chest and scrambled to wrap his arms around his neck. 

“I’m sorry! I fucked it all up, Mako! Ya told me, and I hurt her and-”

“Reaper caught her-”

“She’s dead now, just on the ground all over!” He threw his arms out, flailing his hands here and there as if to display ‘all over’. 

Roadhog let out an irritated growl and cleared his throat. “Boss. Reaper has the mouse.”

Jamie eventually fell quiet after that, the words reaching him after a bit of a delay as he had been lost in his momentary grief. His sobbing died out into a sniffle here and there as he lifted his head and stared up at the mask of his big body guard, feeling his head throb slightly at his dry sobbing. “How’d he do that?” Junkrat felt skeptical as he tried to imagine Reaper catching Y/n after she fell from so high. Roadhog had a hard time staying upright from catching Junkrat, let alone someone as small and whimpy like Reaper. It wasn’t possible, was it?  _ Was it? _ The moment he fully realized what that could mean, he squirmed to be put down. She was alive then? Not all over the ground? Roadie lowered him carefully as if he were a precious bundle of joy; like Y/n was. Junkrat’s heart ached. If Roadie had been with Y/n, he would have been able to save Junkie  _ and _ Y/n. He was sat upright on his “feet”, his prosthetic creaking with strain on it’s duct taped repairs. 

He tested the rough repairs with his weight a second time before taking the liberty to take a few steps and cast around his hopeful gaze. His eyes shifted immediately towards where he heard the deadly thud. There was no blood, no bones or anything splattered around.

Instead, Y/n was curled up peacefully on the chest of Reaper, with a big purple bruise just under her hair on the side of her head. She breathed slowly, and didn’t stir despite the sounds of the airship going down in the distance. 

Jamie felt his head spin; she was too still, too peaceful. Something felt extremely wrong, like instinct was telling him to go to her and care for her and help her. But help her for what? How was she hurt, how could he help? He swallowed hard and hurried towards her, following that protective instinct, to where she lay curled against Reaper’s chest. The momentum of her fall had knocked Reaper to the ground, and he was struggling to keep still as to not hurt her or disturb her, but Jamie could see the pain as he clenched his hands and arched slightly. He’d probably hurt his back catching her weight; not that she weighed much, but they’d fallen… 

Jamie looked up and squinted… 

A good hundred feet, maybe? He didn’t know. He’d landed safe like he’d meant to, but she had not. 

He stumbled awkwardly over to Reaper, where Widowmaker was already standing nervously over him and Sombra was crouching nearby, looking tense. Both were staring at their feet, looking ready to piss themselves, in Junkrat’s opinion.

As Jamie approached, he realized why they looked so shocked. There  _ was _ blood, but it wasn’t Y/n’s. Reaper’s deep colored blood was leaking slightly from the ground behind him, and dripping around his mouth, leaking over his hood and into it from underneath that now-stained mask of his. It was even coating some of Y/n’s blue shirt, making it a dark navy. The sight sent chills down Junkrat’s spine. 

As he joined the group of three, four counting Y/n’s unconscious form, Reaper’s head snapped towards him and he let out a strangled cry, trying to form words. “Take this… this stupid…  _ graaagh... _ worthless  _ puta! _ ” He spat with a terrible venom, like he was trying to poison them all with words. As he let out another growl and it ended with what sounded like him gurgling something thick; Junkrat had a feeling it was blood. Reaper coughed pathetically, and his hands clenching into his own gloves, the metal claws digging into the palms as he fought through whatever pain he was feeling, trying not to crush Y/n in the process.

Junkrat felt his entire body tense up as he heard the boss let out another inhuman groan of pure agony. He sounded like he was dying...like nothing any of them had heard before. Jamie hadn’t ever even realized he felt pain like this; it was haunting. Reaper arched his back with a thick sucking noise as he unstuck himself from all of his blood on the ground. As he dropped back down weakly, he wailed like a shot wolf, the sound of something slick stabbing into him again making them all recoil with terror. Junkrat hurried over to his side to lift Y/n off of the writhing beast, pulling her away from the dark man as he struggled. 

Immediately after her weight was removed from him, Reaper took in a deep, bubbling breath, a bloody foam forming at the edges of his mask. There was a second of stillness, where Jamie swore he heard Widowmaker gasp in shock at the quiet. Then, he groaned and pushed himself back into life again, as if he’d died and come back. He lifted his hands up and slammed them angrily into the ground beside him, his claws ripping through the cold dirt and wet blood he’d made a pool of. The heat of the blood had liquified much of the snow that was still left after the fire had rained from above, and where it touched the ashy white, it bled into it like ink. 

Reaper dragged himself up into a sitting position with another withering cry of pain, pushing himself over onto his stomach to rest, sending the scent of death and blood plooming into the air. A few still seconds passed before his body immediately burst into a cloud of rancid smoke. 

The three of them stood around the warping pile of smoke, stunned into a silence as they realized what had happened. Where Reaper had laid, after he’d caught Y/n, there was a piece of shrapnel jutting from the ground, covered in black blood and shreds of torn up leather. After Reaper had caught her, he must have fallen hard with her weight, and onto the ground there, where the sharp, deadly metal had impaled Reaper through his back. It must have gone straight through, just enough to cause him to bleed onto Y/n as well; Jamie checked, but she was uninjured for all but a small, shallow cut to her side. 

They were all still as Reaper regenerated without pain in his wraith form. Roadhog joined them in silence, examining the situation with what Junkrat realized was a silent shock. As Reaper’s general from began to create itself again, starting with the basic silhouette of a body, they all let out a collective sigh of relief. They were all decently uninjured. 

Sombra was the first to give a snort of amusement, and speak, almost like the whole thing passed over her head; like it didn’t bother her at all. “I don’t know about you, but I’d say that was a success,” she announced, flourishing her nails and looking them over critically as if one had chipped or cracked. After pursing her lightly colored lips together in a nonchalant fashion, she turned her gaze back to them all with mock surprise. 

“I mean, look at us!” A smile played across her features and she waved her hand around at them all. “Sure, sure, chica over there’s a little worse for wear, but what kind of plan doesn’t have a few drawbacks, eh? What fun is there in a plan without a little adrenaline from a tiny injury or…” She glanced down at the blood and at Reaper’s reformation. “Two.” 

By this point she had Widowmaker’s full attention, and the Junkers were staring at her in silence. She paced casually around, turning to a burning pile of rubble and warming her hands on it in the frigid air. 

Junkrat shifted Y/n’s light weight in his arms, caressing her like she was a small, injured animal of some kind. There were a few seconds where Roadie was still, but Jamison could sense his actions even before they happened. His body turned slightly towards Junkie and reached out to take the girl from him, relieving his fidgeting, anxious hands of the cargo. 

Junkrat followed her up with one hand, wrapping it tightly around her wrist and staring nervously at her face, which was closest to him in Roadhog’s arms. “She’s gonna be alroight, ain’t she Mako?” He stared up helplessly at his bodyguard’s mask. Something there said it would be okay, maybe the relaxing of his shoulders or the way he just breathed. It was going to be okay. He leaned up against his heavy companion, straightening slightly to be able to rest his head on his upper arm tiredly.

He hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. Sombra had woken him up with a knock to the side of his head and a roll of duct tape. She’d told him to patch up and that she was ready for his plan. Put on the spot like that, he’d sat with his fingers pressed to his temples for about five whole minutes while she paced the room impatiently and browsed her stupid screen things, before he realized what exactly needed to be done. 

Then the entire thing went off without a hitch except for… well, the landing. He clenched his teeth and felt the inside of his cheek pinch. He reached a hand out to grab a fistful of Y/n’s shirt, feeling a nervous need to know she was there. At least she wasn’t stiff and cold and dead on the ground on that stupid metal scrap. 

He swallowed hard, and his eyes turned up to see Reaper’s entire form slowly solidify as the smoke particles gathered. They stood waiting for his orders for a few minutes while he nervously tested his footing, rolling his shoulders back and cracking his neck. 

At last, he sighed and started walking, saying nothing to Junkrat about the girl, or to Sombra about the plan. The first person he spoke to was nobody in particular, instead it was aimed at all of them. 

“The next mission is in four days. We’re heading to Canada. Headman says there’s an important factory there that we need to take out. Rat, that’s where you and Roadhog come in.” He turned, his slightly stained mask facing him with that furrowed expression it held. It was always that way, putting Junkie and Roadhog together. Junk could do it himself, sure, but if he was outnumbered, he wasn’t exactly a beautiful beast like Roadhog was. 

Jamie turned his eyes affectionately towards his bodyguard, thinking fleetingly back to all the times he’d saved his life. Lots. And lots. Just a load. 

“But before you blow the place up, we have to make sure a few select people reach the right destination. Sombra, your job is to locate them, find them, and give Widowmaker the location of them. Widowmaker, you’re to take them out.” He looked individually to them as he walked, and the rest of them were silent. 

Junkrat had a concern, mostly about Y/n. Where was she going to stay? He wasn’t leaving her back at base with a bunch of soldiers, but taking her on the ship could be dangerous. And he’d have to leave her alone again. He pursed his lips. He could take her on the mission? He glanced nervously to Reaper, who wasn’t paying attention to them at all at this point; probably sculpting the plan to go ahead without issue. 

Asking would upset him; he’d just have to take her without letting him know. She’d love it, explosions and all. He smiled lightly and leaned further against Roadhog, feeling his bicep flex to let him know he cared, as always. Junk loved that about his Roadie, always doing something to let him know he was paying attention to him. It was nice. He smiled up at him, catching the rare sight of his eye behind the reflective glare of his mask, looking down at him. Jamie could tell he was smiling back, and it warmed his heart. 

He was glad they were back together. 

“What’s your job, then, Reyes?” It was the huffy sound of Sombra, through chattering teeth as she shuffled her basically bare feet through the snow. 

Reaper turned to her and huffed, “Get the one we need alive out of there, take them back, interrogate them.”

They were silent again, digesting the entire plot of it all. They were never told why, but Junkrat really didn’t care. He shuttered at the thought of toppling an entire factory; he’d have to mass produce more of his bombs. He had a load back at base, but this factory had to be huge. He needed a big bomb, something massive to take the entire top half out while the bottom was chopped down by a ring of some other smaller explosives… 

There was a disbelieving huff, “How are none of you freezing?!” It was Sombra, her eyes narrowed in suspicion as she clenched her jaw and furrowed her styled eyebrows down. She was the image of irritation, with added on color to her blue lips and bright red nose. Reaper and Widowmaker snorted as if ‘cold’ was nothing but a word to them without feeling attached. 

“Perhaps you’re just weak,” spoke the fridged tone of Widowmaker, who glanced behind her with dangerously blackened eyes. 

Sombra clenched her teeth before they chattered, “Says the one with blue skin. Bah,  _ perra.”  _

Widowmaker sighed and gave a sinister grin, “I’m not the one shivering.” A simple remark that got under Sombra’s skin, making her cheeks go red, but she didn’t react out of order, instead remaining cool and rolling her eyes, acting the bigger person.

Jamie frowned slightly and looked over to Y/n. Was she cold? He really hoped not, there wasn’t anything worse than being cold while you slept; not that he knew, but he had a feeling it was horrible. He looked up to Roadhog, opening his mouth to ask him if he had something to cover her with, but before he could, Roadhog adjusted her into one arm, held up a hand and pulled an old shirt from his waistband to put over her like a blanket. That was...that was better. 

Jamie scooted closer and stood up straight to his full height, looking over her face with a concerned knit of his eyebrows. Was she going to be okay? She looked about as pale as the snow.

“Whatever,  _ pendejos. Ninguno de ustedes tiene razón.”  _ Sombra let out an mildly irritated breath.

There was the regular reaction of Reaper heaving a sigh at the angry spanish being through about, but Sombra didn’t seem to care. “And what about you two? You’re hardly wearing more than the little  _ puta _ over there,” she said it nonchalantly, and thumbed towards Widow. 

Junkrat felt a snarky comment build in his chest, but turned to her and gave a grin, “Radiation?” He suppressed his smartass jokes, sniggering slightly and leaning up against Roadhog, who had chills running up his arms from the breeze. Junk knew that neither of them were really that cold, despite being half naked and wearing one wet boot on his part and wearing a pair of unbuttoned jeans on Roadie’s. Though he did know he apparently gave heat off in waves compared to Roadhog, who kept it all in. 

Roadhog grunted in amused agreement to the answer for Sombra, making her grumble in frustration and kick a hard chunk of snow from the ground where they walked. “I’m going ahead,  _ al diablo esto.  _ I’ll see you all at the airship. I’ll have coffee ready for you.” And with that, she pulled a mine from her belt, chucked it ahead, and fazed out of sight, leaving hardly any footprints in her wake other than the chunk she’d kicked away just moments before. 

The remaining four of them walked on in silence, other than the crunching of the snow and the creaking of Junkrat’s prosthetic. There was no more conversation, and that  left Jamie to fade back into his own mind. 

She was so quiet and still. It was making him nervous. He looked up at Roadhog, who heaved a heavy sigh. Alright, he didn’t know why either. Maybe she really did get knocked upside the head too hard?

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and gave an equally heavy sigh in a disappointed response to Roadhog. This wasn’t good. He looked to her again, to her metal joint on her elbow. He hadn’t noticed it before. His eyes went wide as he examined the disgusting prosthetic. The skin around the joint was turning slightly blue from the cold as her veins couldn’t keep up with the stumps, especially on the re-connected limb. What idiot gave her one of those? 

He remembered back in Junkertown there was a guy who’d tried getting one of those, but he’d managed to bend it by falling off of a roof and three days later his entire leg was infected and swelled up. The sad idiot died four days later after writhing in bed and throwing up everything they tried to feed him. That was the whole reason Junkrat decided that he would just make his own prosthetics. What reason did he have to buy something too expensive, or not expensive enough that would get him killed? 

She was lucky she hadn’t… 

“Oh, bloody hell, Roadie,” he hissed, his eyes going wide and his heart leaping into his throat. Roadhog looked to him as he stumbled to walk in front of the bigger man, his legs working tirelessly as he moved to her side. He nearly fell as he hit a hard lump of snow, but with a quick swing of his arms he’d rebalanced himself. He looked over her sweatpants, slightly wet from the snow and singed from the fire. There he saw what he’d dreaded confirming; her leg  _ had _ been bent. 

He’d seen it before, the more he thought about it. After her usual limping on that first day, it had gotten worse somewhere in the time she was with him. And the more he thought, the more he realized how tilted she always seemed; tilted to the side and crooked. 

It was bent, but why? 

His head spun as he went back through all of the things that had happened with her while he’d had her around.

It wasn’t bent when she was in the town. 

The four of them stepped up onto the ramp of the airship and walked in, their feet tapping the metal in uniform, and the warmth of the interior making Jamie’s hands tingle at renewed feeling. The smell of Sombra’s coffee wafted through the air, but he didn’t notice. His brow furrowed hard into the bridge of his nose as he fell into step behind Roadhog, taking the belt loop between his fingers so he could fall back into his mind without running into a wall. 

Again.

It wasn’t bent when he’d taken her into his room for the night, or fed her cake, or made her bed.

He frowned as he stared at his toes, looking at how he tracked in snow, and at how his prosthetic bent awkwardly this way or that. He would have to fix it while they flew to the base, back in his workshop. He missed his workshop, all his collected junk, and his sunroof that he’d made. Did Roadhog have his frag launcher?

It wasn’t bent that morning for breakfast, but she had been struggling to run after him. 

His nose was beginning to run, and it was dripping slightly. He subconsciously sniffed and reached his hand up to wipe his nose off, leaving a smear on his grimy arm. Roadhog lead the way to the room, and Jamie followed in a somber, thoughtful quiet as the big door closed with a thud behind them.

It wasn’t bent in the ruins, when she had followed him or when he’d picked her up, or when she’d almost fallen from the cliff.

Reaper and Widowmaker had joined them, reaper pulling out a keycard to unlock his manual door compared to those fancy overwatch ones with the finger scans.

It wasn’t bent at the meeting....

Widowmaker’s door opened and she entered the room. Reaper’s knob clicked and he reached out, his metal claws sliding across the metal.

It was bent after. He’d had to carry her out into his room to keep her safe because she couldn’t move. What had happened in the meeting? Reaper had attacked her. She’d kicked him. Reaper kicked her back. Hard. 

And  _ crushed _ her knee. 

He was going to get her killed. 

Reaper did that.

Reaper  _ hurt her. _

“ _ You!”  _ He turned angrily within a split second as those thoughts raced through his mind, causing both Reaper and Widowmaker to turn around in a mild surprise. When Widow realized that Jamie wasn’t actually looking at her, and instead glaring at Reaper, she rolled her eyes, and her door clicked closed. 

Reaper, on the other hand, gave a low growl and clenched his hands into fists as Jamie started shouting at him, though he was seemingly unphased. 

“Ya fucked up her leg! I’ll tear ya apart, ya wanker!” He lunged out, but a finger slid across his back and within a split second he was jerked back by the waistband of his pants. He spat and jerked forwards, feeling a tear at his hip and the fabric creak with strain. He floundered for a moment to try and scramble out of his shorts and after Reaper, but before he could, he felt himself flip sideways and his hands hit the ground to avoid his face from nailing the tile. Roadie had lifted him up by his shorts.

There was a stillness in the hallway for a long moment, before Reaper began to move again, exiting into his office with the click of it closing. The Junker let out an enraged shriek. How could he just walk away, knowing he was killing Y/n?! “Go  _ fuck _ ya’self up a wall, ya’ freak a’ nature! Die in a hole! Stick a bomb up ya’ w-” 

“-Jamie,” came the deep rumple that cut him off, and Junkrat was left to sputter into silence, realizing that Reaper wasn’t the biggest of his problems. 

“She’s hurt,” he whispered, putting a trembling hand to his mouth to feel around the edges of his rough face and the slight roughness of maybe some hair coming back. “She’s hurt so bad…” His voice shook, and he felt Roadhog lift him up into the air, flopping Junk over his shoulder with an awkward grunt at trying to handle Jamie. It wasn’t that he was too heavy at all, but he wasn’t too light either; his height carried some weight to it, not that it bothered Roadhog at all. It was trying to handle all of his lanky limbs that was awkward.

Junkrat was carried into their room, the light flickering on with a click. Jamie felt himself begin to relax, though his trembling didn’t stop, his breath came back to him. It smelled like home; like Roadie and metal and oil and fire. It was going to be okay, he just had to help her. To fix her. “Roadie, she’s...and… we gotta…” He couldn’t find the words, his thoughts racing a mild a minute.

“I hear ya’ boss. I’ll help ya’ fix your mouse.” He reassured him in a low, gentle tone as he put Junkrat first on the bed, and then laid Y/n gently beside him like he was handling glass. She didn’t stir an inch, though her brow furrowed in discomfort. Jamie’s heart caught in his throat at the sight, and he immediately scrambled up onto his feet, found a pillow and proped her head up on it in hopes to ease her unhappiness. He was left standing over her with a lost expression, and a deep sickness churning in his stomach. 

How bad was it? He wasn’t too steady with his hands at this stuff, it gave him anxiety and he didn’t know what any of the medical crap did, that was Roadhogs job, doing the cleaning and stitching. His job was to examine the wounds. He was usually examining his own, though… He wasn’t used to looking at others. It was generally the same, only he couldn’t feel it. He took a deep breath, picking painfully at the skin around his fingernails as he dropped his eyes to her sweatpants. He needed to see the wound, that was that. Had to see if it was really bad yet, or even salvageable or… would he have to take it off? 

The thought of her waking up to her leg being gone made his heart ache; she’d probably have a meltdown. Would she listen to him if he explained? Or would she call him a monster and never talk to him again? Want to go home? He swallowed hard, feeling like she’d already left him and behind her was a hole in his heart. 

He reached out a shaking hand to pull her pant-leg up, rolling it with careful, nimble fingers. He pulled it up to her mid-thigh, feeling his face heat up as he realized how inappropriate this felt, touching her without her permission like this. An arm around the shoulder was nothing, but she was awake for that, and right now she was not. It felt bad. 

Didn’t matter. 

Her knee was dented. Bad. He pursed his lips as he looked it over, at how the skin was pulled around the implants and the metal jutted out in the form of a replaced knee. Her toes were blue, and a bruise ran up the entire outside edges of her calf; she’d probably bashed it somewhere and couldn’t even feel it. He frowned at how dead the skin was beginning to look. The bend wasn’t at a ninety degree angle, but it wasn’t exactly minor either. At this point, he was almost positive that bending it back, even taking it off and reattaching it, wasn’t going to do shit.

Her skin was a deep black color around the edges of her joint, where they connected but the veins didn’t quite reach to get enough blood there. The cold and the injury to the veins and nerves that had run through the metal, had killed all the cells in her lower leg, and it was looking grey and lifeless; it couldn’t be saved, and wouldn’t function again. Infection ran through her muscles on her thigh in red patches, and where the joint connected to her bone, it was extremely swollen with pus for about three inches up.

The leg on the other end of the stupid joint was cold, like a dead weight. She obviously couldn’t feel a single thing with the dead nerves in her knee cutting off feeling. Compared to the grey, black and blue chunk of flesh, that no doubt would start to wreak soon, the living half of her leg was throbbing almost visibly with her heartbeat, and the swollen infection was obviously setting into her bloodstream, she’d get a fever soon. That reattached leg was useless; it couldn’t be there anymore or else she’d be dead in a couple days. It had to come off. 

He glanced around the room, ready to give his analysis to Roadhog. He found the brute standing by the wall at ready, already with a first aid kit and some towels in hand.

“Roadie, it’s gotta come off,” he heard himself whisper, and with silent acknowledgement, the big man stepped over, and began to lay out some towels. Jamie awkwardly shuffled to the side, making sure he was out of the way as Roadhog peeled open some disinfectant wipes and began wiping down her skin. He felt an instense need to watch, to make sure she would be okay and everything would be fine, but he knew it’d make him sick. The site of pus always made him ill.  He could look at the outsides and insides of anything else, but he did  _ not _ do pus. It brought back too many memories of when he’d gotten his leg blown off. 

Then his arm blown off. 

Luckily, at least Roadhog had been there for that second one. After that, he’d always let Roadhog treat him, never talking back as to avoid throwing up at the site of the disgusting yellow…

He felt himself gag, his stomach turning as he tried not to think about it. And the  _ smell _ . 

He took a deep breath, pushing the thoughts away from him. Barbeque was one thing, but man just the memories the stuff brought back. Horrid...  “Um, Roadhog? I’m going to go get some water, and food... “ He glanced down at Y/n, biting his lip. “A-and for that leg? The bolt is stuck through the middle of the bone, y’gotta be careful not to shatter her leg there. Um...infection all in the knee…” 

“Jamie.”

Junkrat frowned, shuffling his feet and peeling at his fingers again. “Yeah?”

“Bring a garbage bag.”

“Roight...uh, what for?” He looked up to the big brute of a man he called his partner. 

“The leg.”

“Roight. Okay.” He frowned and turned silently, limping his way to the door and wincing as his fingers began to sting as he drew blood. Damn it… He stuck them in his mouth, his other hand reaching out to open the door. 

“Hey.”

He turned, looking over his shoulder at Mako, who was undoing the strap of his mask. Jamie knew the drill, especially for stuff like this. Mask comes off, goes on whoever needs it, and then you got to deal with sucking in that smoke-gas crap he breathed in all the time. “Yeah?” 

“Don’t get into trouble.” Junkrat felt a small smile curl at his own lips, unintentional as ever when it came to Mako’s little warnings that usually didn’t work. He shrugged playfully as his spirits began to return to him. 

“Don’t tell me what ta do, ya’ old bastard.” He stuck his tongue out and turned to resume stepping out into the hall. Roadhog’s gentle chuffles followed him out, and the vibration of the floor greeted him as the door clicked closed. The airship shifted as they began takeoff, ready to head back to base. There, he’d fix up his leg, and… and…

Make Y/n a new one. Would she like that? He’d do one better than his, make one like his arm for her. He frowned, staring down at his arm. 

Did she want that? 

He shook his head, staring down at his uneven legs as he began to limp quietly down the hallway, the smells of coffee still wafting through the air from Sombra’s brew. Did she make tea? He frowned and sniffed again, deciding that she probably didn’t. He frowned and turned to start down the hall to the cafeteria. Did Y/n like tea? He certainly liked tea well enough, and Mako didn’t ever let him have coffee. Mako didn’t like coffee, but he liked tea. He liked lavender, oolong, and just plain Green Tea. Jamie remembered trying to buy him Strawberry tea, but he’s said it tasted like medicine, so it just sat there until it got thrown out. Junk himself liked Lavender. 

But did Y/n like tea? 

Jamie’s eyes went wide as he limped past the various doors down to the cafeteria. Did she like bubble tea? Did she know what it was? 

His mouth went dry at the sudden craving for the drink and all of it’s sweetness. He remembered when he’d first found out that the stuff existed. 

He and Roadhog had been on a beautiful rampaged through Kings Row. They’d crashed through nearly four different buildings and sent them halfway to the ground. The entire block smelled like a nice barbecue, and to add to it, Jamie’d found an entire vending machine filled with energy drinks. And to end the entire thing was Overwatch, who came in halfway through Jamie’s tenth can of Power X. It was the usual, with Soldier and Pharah, this and that, but this time they’d brought Lucio and Hana with them. It hadn’t been the first time Jamie’d met them, but the first time he’d gone head to head with them on the front lines.

Jamie frowned, wondering silently where Lucio and D.Va had been when he was on the Overwatch airship. Had Y/n met them at all, or had they even known he was on the ship at all?  _ Y/n would have loved them… _ He reached up to rub his burning eyes, feeling irritation well up in his chest.  _ They’d have loved Y/n. Been proud I made a friend. _

He sniffed and tried to think about the better times he’d hung out with Lucio and D.Va, not stupid Overwatch and the issues they’d had recently with them. Back with the bubble tea, Roadhog had ended up face to face with D.Va’s badass mech and the stupid monkey. Jamie remembered turning to see D.Va pelting Roadhog with bullets, and catching each ball of shrapnel he’d bang right at her in some weird mechanical field she created. The damned ape ended up tackling Roadhog and wrestling him to the ground out of pure surprise, and together, Hana and Winston had pinned Roadhog down. 

The entire time, Junkrat had been hiding as well as he could behind the massive meat shield that Mako was, and the moment they’d nailed the big guy to the ground, Jamie had panicked. Within seconds, before Roadhog could fight his way up as usual, Pharah, or maybe it was Hanzo, knocked Junkie to the ground and locked his hands in cuffs. They started dragging him off with a knife to his neck, and there wasn’t a thing Roadhog could do after that but let them bind him up and lead him back to the stupid airship. 

They’d both been put in a room to be interrogated, and Jamie hadn’t had to pull or struggle then because everything he’d needed was in the room with him. Roadhog was at his side as always. So they’d questioned them, and every time they’d ask a question Junkrat would spit in their faces, and before they could punch him, Roadhog would growl and his cuffs would creak threateningly, so they’d never dared lay a hand on him. Eventually, after being frustrated enough by Jamison’s smart ass comments, they released Junkrat for food. Roadhog was kept for extra questioning, which Junk was almost positive that he didn’t say a single word to them, but Jamie got to be escorted out for a meal by the lovely Lucio and Hana.

To start off, neither of them had been too bothered by him, and actually tried to be nice. Jamie felt bad that he’d spat at them a few times, but after a bit, and after Hana gave him a nice hug, he’d realized they were actually being kind. 

So when they got to the lunch area, they’d recommended him a lot of things he’d not tried before. He hated most of them, but at some point Hana had asked him if he’d ever had Bubble Tea. When he’d said no, they’d dragged him off of his seat and pulled him up to get a glass. 

That was about the end of that. He’d had three more until he felt like he was going to puke, and then after another hour in questioning, he and Roadhog busted their way out of the place and made their way back to base. 

Man, if only Dva and Lucio had been in the airship with him this time, he could say  _ G’day mates, _ and they’d laugh and reply and smile, ask him how he was and then ask him who Y/n was. Junkrat would introduce them all and they’d all drink bubble tea, and it’d be a great time. Lucio and Dva were a great time… 

Of course they just had to have been on the other side of this entire thing, all their fun and their pranks that they told him about. They were Overwatch, he wasn’t. He sighed, passing into the cafeteria though the double doors. Once and awhile he thought about what it would take to be taken into Overwatch. Giving up his chaos? Talon secrets? He’d decided that giving up all the fun he and Roadhog had wasn’t worth a few pranks with Lucio and Hana quite yet. Once he ran out of things to steal and rob, he’d think a little harder on it. 

He winced as a body bumped into him, jerking back into the present to realizing he had run into Sombra. As he focused in on reality, he looked down at her, and she stared up at him in disgust, a cup of hot coffee in her hands. He opened his mouth to mutter a ‘sorry’, but she interrupted his pre-emptive apology with a scoff. “Watch were you’re going,” she muttered, blowing on the steam of her drink with red fingertips and a red nose.

Jamie frowned down at her for a moment before heaving a long sigh. “Sorry.” He furrowed his brow, and stared at her for another moment as she glared up at him, shuffling past in her fluffy, purple slippers. Did… did Y/n own a pair of slippers? 

He faded back into his own head, into a silence that only could mean thinking when it came to him. He walked across the cafeteria, pushing into the kitchen to find himself some tea to make… he’d make some for Y/n too. She might want some. And food...

Did she have tea often? He furrowed his brow; what all did she like? What did she have when she was back at home? She never really had talked about it yet, and it hadn’t hit him that he’d taken her away from all of her belongings, everything else. 

She might have had a pet she didn’t have anymore, and all of her clothes, and all of her pictures and her gadgets and her books or whatever she did. Did she read like Roadhog, or did she draw like Jamie did? Did she make things or go to school or have a job or...

His head spun and he gave a groan, his fingers awkwardly fiddling with a kettle as he filled it with hot water. He wasn’t as good at making tea as Roadhog, but he knew the basics; it was just the toss up of whether he’d burn himself with the water or if he’d get distracted and leave the kettle on until it screamed itself dry. 

He did that once. And Roadie had laughed at him for it, but it had been hilarious to see all of Talon up in their pajamas or underwear, woken up by the screaming pot. Did Y/n make mistakes like that? Or was she level headed? Had she ever burned herself on anything? 

He thought back to the fire, how she’d stared at him. Had that fire burned her at all? Had she been close to it? He hadn’t even asked her, or brought it up at all. Did she want him to bring it up?

He reached out to the cabinets, grabbing some mugs, since they didn’t have tea cups or anything. He grabbed three, and found a tray to put them all on while he searched about for any types of tea they had. He looked through the cabinets that he knew had food in them, standing on his toes to see into the far back of the top shelf where the coffee was. Ah, there. 

A package of Lavender, the kind Roadie usually made him, was sat off to the back for emergencies. Every time Jamie had a freak out, Roadhog would just show up with a cup and set him down off of the side and make him breath and drink his tea. Jamie liked his with lots of sugar and honey, made it taste like candy, but not too much that it got rid of the tea taste and smell. Just enough. Only just enough.

Roadhog had gotten it down to a science, one that Jamie always screwed up. He’d taken to just putting sugar and honey in a pair of cups and bringing it to Roadhog to put in. That way he didn’t make his tea too sugary or run out of tea before he put enough in. He wondered quietly about the things Y/n might have eaten, or drank or what places she liked to eat at. Did she drink? How old was she? He furrowed his brow, realizing with a sudden irritation with himself that he didn’t even know her favorite color. 

The whistling of the kettle brought his attention to the thing, pulling him out of his self-loathing. He reached out to the kettle and pulled it off of the stove, lifting it steadily to pour it into each mug as equally as he could. He set it down again and left it where it was, not bothering to clean it or anything. Why would he, that wasn’t his job. They could clean the drop of water and the whatever else he did. He was here to blow shit up. And take care of Y/n. That was it.

He pulled three bags of tea out of the larger package, setting them on the side of the tray and turning to find another cup to fill with sugar. He set it on the counter, opening the sugar bag and pouring it messily into the cup, watching grains of it scattering into heaps on the counter. He shook the extra off of the lips of the cup and set the cup onto the tray, before finding the little bottle of honey and setting that onto the tray as well. He found himself digging through the cabinets next, pulling out a bag of chips and a container of cookies to bring with him; he added it to the cart, and remembered that Roadhog needed a bag. He grabbed a roll of trashbags, and stuck it into his waistband.

Alright. 

Time to do the hard part. 

He nervously grabbed the tray, holding it on steady hands as he took his uneven steps towards the door. He backed out of the swinging kitchen doors, trying to keep his usually unsteady gait as  _ steady _ as he could. 

He felt like a waiter.

Did Y/n go out to eat often?

Or did she eat at home? At a table or in her room?

What was her room like? Neat or messy with lots of stuff like his?

So,  _ wait, _ if he had taken all of that away from Y/n, he’d have to get it back for her. Right? Maybe he’d go back to Ilios? Take Roadie’s bike and get her stuff for her here.

That thought chilled him; nobody took Roadhogs bike. If he did that he’d have his neck wrung without a second thought from the big lug.

But how was he supposed to get all the way back to the sea-place to get her stuff for her then? He pursed his lips and took a deep breath. He could take a car, or he could…

He winced as he almost spilled one of the cups, wobbling a little and deciding he should concentrate more on the tray, he could think about the car later. 

He managed his way all the way to his room, nervously pushing it open to the smell of blood and the strong, rancid stench of infection. He gagged, hurrying over to set the tray on the nightstand so he could scramble about to grab something to put over his face. He reached down to the floor and snatched up a shirt, Roadhog’s shirt, then put it to his face, feeling the smell of gasoline sooth his sickened stomach.

Roadhog glanced over at him, his mask off and those big brown eyes Jamie loved so much staring at him with concern, his mouth slightly open and his full bottom lip between his teeth. Mako rarely took that mask off, but now it was laying loosely over Y/n, a yellow canister locked into the side of it to allow her to breath in the addicting gases, something like a painkiller and an anesthetic all in one. How Mako still fought after taking one amazed him. 

Jamie nervously shuffled towards his Hog, nuzzling his head underneath his arm and feeling anxiety fill his chest at the thought of Y/n being in half dead, lying on the bed in front of him. He closed his eyes, refusing to look as Mako put his arm around him, smothering all of his fear with a warm squeeze.

He was hugged close to the big brute, where he hid his face into his side, still holding the shirt to his face. He sighed, knowing he should look. He should.

But, he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to see pus or anything disgusting coming out of a pretty little thing like Y/n, but he knew he’d have to explain what happened to her when she woke up. He needed to know what Roadhog had done to her leg so he could explain. 

She’d be distraught. He took a deep breath of the gasoline, before pulling the shirt away from his eyes, and staring towards the little lady on the bed. There she lay, looking peaceful under that mask, and adorable with her little face under the big glass eyes. She’d look even better without her blood on the towels, and pus running out of her thigh. The leg that was so dead and bent was now off, with the bone fractured in order to get that stupid bolt out of her. Despite all that, iit was off, and Mako was working on getting all that pus out so he could stitch her up. 

It was...sickening, but relieving. She was okay, and that freakish leg of hers was never going to be put back on again. Jamie could make her a new one. 

He closed his eyes again, feeling Mako get back to work pushing and squeezing the infection out of her. Another three minutes of the tea cooling went by, before Mako handed him a needle, and orange stitches to thread into it. Mako was giving Jamie something to do instead of sit and think, he knew that. He appreciated it. Jamie sat for a few frustrating moments to try and get his hands to stop shaking so much to easily slip the plastic thread into the needle, and handing it back to Roadhog to get started. He was let go, and he pulled himself away from the two in order to go open up the door, and turn on the fan in the corner to air out the disgusting smell. The fan was usually for smoke, but this worked too. 

He moved quietly over to the bed, sitting down with theatrical care to avoid moving the mattress while Mako stitched her closed. He reached out to grab a cup of water, taking one of the bags and dunking it into the mug in silence. He’d taken so much away from her, and now her leg was gone too. He sighed,, lifting the tea to his lips to test the temperature, and take a bitter, disgusting sip. Needed sugar…

He looked to the cup of sugar.

He’d wait for Mako.

He put the mug back and sat in silence for a long while as Roadhog finished, reaching over to slip the roll of garbage bags out of his waist to throw the pus filled towels and the dead leg into. He tied it in silence and tossed it into the hallway before sitting down beside Jamie. He reached over for one of the things of warm water, in his other hand a pair of pills. After a little manuevering, He’d sat Y/n up, and taken the mask from her face and getting her to take it without much issue. As he laid her back down, Jamie stared over her face. She looked...pale. That bruise didn’t suit her well.

“She has a concussion,” Mako said, interrupting his thoughts as he down and sniffed quietly. He grabbed his own mug, dunking the bag into it. Jamie lifted his as well, waiting in silence as Mako reached out and added sugar and honey without a second thought to it. Together they sat, sipping their tea.

“I gave her pills for infection. Stitched her up. We’ve got crutches here for her.” He went on listing as Jamie used his finger to stir his tea, having forgotten a spoon. “We’ll get ice for her bruises.” Jamie frowned and stuck his nose in his tea, taking a deep breath of the smell before taking a sip. 

“Got stuff for shock. She needs clothes,” he muttered, reaching over and putting his arm around Jamie, engulfing him in a much needed reassurance. Jamie glanced up at the big man, at his messy ponytail and his roughly shaved face, all grey with age and stress. He stared quietly around the room, seemingly content. 

“Thanks, Mako,” he heard himself whisper, turning and nuzzling his face into his side. 

There was a deep huff of amusement. 

“Don’t worry about it rat. We’ll get the mouse fixed right up, good as new. ” Jamie glanced up to him, seeing his smile and feeling his heart warm. It would be okay. Y/n would be okay.  

“Better than new,” Jamie stated, nodding and feeling his heart glow with affection towards Y/n. He’d take care of her, and Mako would too. 

“Yeah, Jamie. Better than new.”


	18. What Fire Is, Was, And Will Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally out! :D Sorry it took so long!

The first thing you noticed when you finally faded fully into the conscious world, was the soft, permanently dented mattress below you. It was soft, and the springs were still and worn beneath you. There wasn’t much of a pause between you noticing that, and realizing that you were laying on Roadhog’s bed, where it smelled like gasoline and smoke all around you. 

The second thing you noticed was the blankets piled up high around you, almost engulfing you in a mountain of them. You didn’t have to open up your eyes to know, since it all smelled like Junkrat. The fabric tickled your cheeks and you felt your eyelashes on your left side brush them as you opened your eyes, staring up at the dimly lit ceiling, with the light-fan fixture only equipt with half of the necessary working bulbs to light the space. You could almost imagine Junkrat reaching up and taking one down for a creation of his. 

Junkrat… 

You frowned as you remembered his smiling face, and his hands grabbing you and pulling you towards the airship doors. Was he okay? You turned your head, suddenly feeling it throb with a cottoned pain, like someone had put blankets in your head as well. Somewhere there was a groan, somewhere close but too far away to be identified. You closed your eyes again, feeling an ache begin to build in your eyes and in your temples. You didn’t need to wake up now, after all. You were sure everything was fine. 

“Hey, Roadie, d’ya think she’s up now?” Jamie’s squeaky voice was far away as well, though you could hear the sudden creaking of his leg as he approached. The bed dipped, and you heard the sliding of a glass along a table, and the sipping sound of Jamie’s perfect manners. 

You furrowed your eyebrows as he spoke again, even louder now; too loud. “Y/n? Ya’ awake?” It was a whisper, but it was a loud one, somehow. Someone groaned again, and you had a feeling that it was you, since Junkie was so far away sounding as well. 

You sighed, and opened one eye. Your body was slowly waking up as well, and you could feel aches and pains all over the place. Something on your bad leg was killing you; maybe it got bent even more? 

You tried to push that feeling of dread away as you saw the orange-silhouetted face of Jamie staring down at you, the ceiling light framing him, with his eyes bugged out and his bottom lip between his teeth. When he saw your eye open, he flinched and a gasp escaped him. “Roadie, she’s awake!” He turned, and you stared quietly as that silhouette he had went from narrow to pointed. The light made the sharp ends of his nose and chin look even more sharp, something you realized you liked about him just then. That and his constant worry over you, and his stupid loud voice. 

Jamie was okay after whatever had happened, and you were happy for him. “Hey, sheila! Ya’ feelin okay?” A shadow fell across you as Roadhog followed Jamie’s example of leaning over you. Jamie was staring inquisitively at you in hope that you’d respond positively to the question he’d asked. Roadhog, as usual, was silent. 

You sat in silence, staring at their faces blankly while you tried to focus on how your own mental state and physical state felt at the moment; because it wasn’t good. Something hellish was radiating from your left leg, straight up into your hip and was causing your back to ache fiercely. You had various bumps and bruises, sure, but that was definitely the worse. You swallowed hard, realizing how try your throat was. The spit went down like swallowing a sea urchin would, and swallowing a second time didn’t help, only made the discomfort worse. Your tongue felt like sandpaper. 

Jamie was still waiting for your reply, so you lick your chapped lips and croaked out; “Some water would be nice…” Almost immediately you watched as the rat turned and slapped Roadhog’s arm frantically, as if trying to shoo him like a fly. The massive body guard chortled at the action, and with a swing, he turned on a heel and was out of the room, leaving you with Jamie, still standing over you, and his smell surrounding you with what you could only assume was his Pile, picked up off of the floor and put around you to keep you warm. Really warm. 

“Gotcha, er...You’re not in pain or nothin’ are ya?” Back to the questions. You sighed, squeezing your eyes shut again. You were in a lot of pain, and it wasn’t getting any better as time went on. You hoped that by shutting out any light, your head would stop throbbing. 

By the time it was beginning to help, Jamie’s worried whimper cut through your concentration on willing away the pain; the noise brought on another boom of pain, and you groaned. Since it wasn’t going to work with Junkrat staring down at you, you opened your eyes again and sighed. “I hurt all over, Jamie...what happened?” 

It was your turn to ask questions now, since the last thing you remembered was Jamie’s arms hugging you close, the smell of cold wind and winter, and a big piece of grey sheet flying at the two of you. The only thing you could assume had happened was that it had hit you, but that didn’t explain too well why Junkrat seemed perfectly uninjured, and you ached like you’d been hit repeditively with a two by four. 

You stared up at his grime-plastered face, and at how the grease kept his hair back even as he stared down at you. He really did need a shower. The blankets smelled like him, but the more he lingered the more you realized how much more potent he was compared to the sheets. It was on the verge of making your eyes water. He bit his lip with those pointed teeth of his, and you noticed that as he furrowed his eyebrows to try and find the right words to answer, his nose flared a bit. Kind of cute, really. You glanced away, and he gave a long, pitchy “ummm”. 

“Well, the plan went off great up until the way down, roight? And ya got smacked by some scrap, and ya almost splattered on the ground, but ya didn’t.” He began to twiddle his thumbs in front of him, just barely in your sight over the edge of the mountain of blankets. 

You sighed, beginning to feel extremely uncomfortable in the warmth of the pile. You moved your arms, feeling stiff all down your back; probably from almost splattering on the ground as Jamie had explained. You pushed against the sunk in bed with your hands, feeling a dizziness overtake you and threaten to force you back onto the bed. The mattress shifted, to make that dizziness worse, as Junk got off and stood up, backing up a step or two. 

You sighed and began peeling at the blanket cocoon you’d been put in. You felt like you were sweating too much underneath it all; not to mention that smell was devilry itself. You were stuck between liking it and wanting it there, and hating it due to what it entailed. Smoke and fire meant destruction and horrible injuries to you, ever since it had taken your old home and caused your leg and arm to need surgery. But it smelled like grease and oil, musk and electricity, and gasoline as well. All put together, it was the smell of Junkrat, of a friend and of the start of a life that you could maybe do something for yourself with. You just wished it wasn’t so ashy, maybe then it wouldn’t make your stomach lurch. “Er, sheila, wait, there was something else.” 

Your hand dropped a blanket at your waist onto the floor, and you stared up at Jamie as his hand came down around your wrists, stopping you from de-blanketing yourself. You let your arms go limp in his hold, where his fingers felt so warm you were surprised he didn’t have some kind of fever. You looked up to him, but you couldn’t catch his gaze no matter how hard you tried. After what seemed like an eternity of silence and you becoming more and more irritated with how he wasn’t spitting it out, you gave a huff and tried to jerk your hands away again. 

“Wait, wait! Wait, Y/n, we took off your leg!” He nearly shrieked it, and all of a sudden everything else he was saying was lost in the terrible blood rushing noise that was going through your head. You stared blankly down at the blankets covering the lower half of your body. The pain that shot up from your thigh made so much sense you felt ready to cry. 

No more going to the market for food, no more browsing the stalls, and no more kicking your feet up on the bar of the hammock outside. You couldn’t go up to see Yaya anymore, or stand up in the shower at all, or go for a walk on the docks. No more running down the hall from Widowmaker, no more following Jamie by the belt loop, or going on a walk to the ruins for some crazy explosives, or anything. You had one leg to work with, and chances were you’d be in a wheelchair or crutches all the time. You’d be a useless cripple.

Exactly what Reaper had already thought of you. 

Two hands slapped you on the cheeks, and you winced as you realized how they slid, slick with your own tears. Your chin was pulled up to face Jamie, who stared you down with those intense, burning amber eyes. You subconsciously sniffed as you heard him apologize again and again, all the words he’d been saying having gone over your head up until now. He was sorry that he’d taken your leg, that was all you knew. He was sorry...

His now wet fingers let go of your tear streaked face and his long, lean muscled arms pulled you into a tight hug. You felt your head fit nicely underneath his chin, where you pressed your face to his sharp collarbones, which wasn’t comfortable, but wasn’t painful either. That sickening smell he wore like a trophy filled your nose and all of a sudden it had a new, added meaning. Loss. 

You reached your hands up and pushed at the solid wall of sickening ashes and smoke that held you close to him. You couldn’t be around him, not right now. More tears began to flow down your face, collecting along your jaw and dripping onto the blankets that still covered your legs. The arms that tried to comfort you, left you reluctantly, and you heard Jamie’s quiet apologies retreat to the other side of the room. One glance told you he’d sat against the wall, realizing that he wasn’t wanted, because he did this to you. You didn’t want his comfort, even if he was sorry, he’d done this to you.

Your hands shook as you took ahold of the blankets around your waist. You peeled them away, watching as more and more bandaging appeared along your thigh, all the way down until it stopped. It tied itself off, and where your leg used to be, connected by a metal joint, was nothing. Just more blankets. 

Just then, it was like everything around you broke at the realization that he wasn’t lying. Your leg was gone, and it wasn’t ever coming back. You hugged your remaining jointed arm to your chest protectively, feeling a bitter fear boil up in your throat that you may lose it as well. Was he going to take that too? You looked quietly around you on the bed, gripping the blanket you’d held in your hands and slowly pressing it to your mouth. You sobbed, feeling your throat hurt as you shamelessly wailed with grief, muffled by the horrible smelling fabric. You couldn’t reach out for your brother, or your mother or father to comfort you with smells of jam and bread and sea salt. All the people who had once held you and told you it would be okay were gone. You were far away from them, and you had no idea which direction to look to begin finding them. 

So you reached out for the one comfort you had recently pushed away, and he was there in a second, holding you against him again like he’d never let you go, with the smells of smoke and musk and gasoline. 

He let you sob into his bare chest, leaving tear streaks of clean skin through the dirt, until you finally exhausted yourself, unable to cry anymore despite the horrible empty, sad feeling you had in your heart. Jamie had stayed quiet and somber the entire while, only murmuring that it’d be okay once and awhile, because he was going to help you, or because he’d take you places, or he’d do this or that. For you. 

When you were quiet, and the only thing you could do was sniff and think about how much your throat hurt, and how raw it was, you felt him prod you in the side with those narrow fingers of his.

“Hey, sheila, um… I can always make you a new one, since Roadie and I had to take the bad one off…” His voice was timid, and you could feel the slight tremor that was running through him. You weren’t sure if it was excitement at making something, or anxiety, but you decided not to think too hard on it...Jamie shook like a small dog most of the time anyway. 

You lifted your head up to stare at him through your swollen eyes, up at his colorless lips, pursed with worry, and the upward furrow of his wild, untamed eyebrows, and his sunken in eyes that stared back sadly. You took a deep breath, and sighed, feeling like you’d just breathed out all of your own anxiety and pain in one, heavy breath. “I guess tha-” 

“I-it wouldn’t be as bad as mine, I promise!” He winced under you and looked quietly away, his teeth catching his bottom lip as he whimpered nervously. You watched him as he tried to find somewhere else to look at, like you’d been about to say no. 

You reached up and poked his chest with one finger, still staring tiredly up at him. All that crying hadn’t made your headache any better, either. “Jamie,” you murmured, giving a sigh. Anything was better than being confined to a chair or crutches. 

He looked anxiously back down at you, and you did your best to produce a small, tired smile. “Only if I get to help make it…” 

His eyebrows twitched slightly, as if he were about to furrow them but he’d changed his mind. There was something between the two of you that made you both relax, you cradled in his arms as you both cracked wide, ridiculous smiles. He started to giggle at the entire, crazy situation, and you wished you had the energy to do anything but let out a loud yawn. It was going to be okay then. You were going to be okay, and Jamie was going to help it be okay. 

He let you go after a while, though you lay still in his lap for a few minutes after. When you finally shifted to move, Junkrat’s hands were there to help you sit up all the way before he stood, and was off across the room where he’d been when you woke up. You realized that it looked a bit different in here. Not only was there a big, clean circle where Junkrat’s blanket pile had been, but there were various other small spaces of carpet where gadgets or bombs were thrown carelessly, that were now empty. Instead, there was a pair of big duffle bags sitting by the door. One of them had what looked to be Roadhog’s hook, a load of teeshirts and jeans, that strange gun you’d seen him using during the fighting just two days before, and what looked to be a tool kit and...was that a Pachimari toy, like off of the television commercials? 

You frowned curiously, but Jamie’s motions across the room took your attention off of the stuffed animal for a moment. He was throwing scraps of metal and springs into his bag, which looked much fuller than what you assumed to be Roadhog’s bag. Not only that, but Junkrat was still trying to stuff it full of things; metal things. That could not be safe, or light weight. “Oh! Uh, Y/n!” His head snapped towards you and he dropped was he was holding into the bag. His attention fell to the zipper, but he went off rambling about something or another as his fingers fiddled with trying to get the already broken mechanism to close. 

“I realized that ya ain’t got any clothes yesterday, so I say - stupid, come on, just… agh! We go out and get ya some clothes after we make that leg of yours!  _ There _ !” The zipper brokenly clicked across the last stretch, completely closing the bag up; at least mostly. The zipper opened in a few places, but Jamie obviously had it under control, since he almost immediately found himself a few safety pins to poke himself with while trying to close the flaps together so nothing spilled out. 

You looked down at yourself, at your underwear and your tanktop and… Where were those sweats? You frowned and glanced across the bed, noticing that they’d been folded, probably by Roadhog, and put at the foot of the bed for you. You reached down and began awkwardly pulling one leg over your right side, and doing your best to try and maneuver the fabric over your thigh. It felt like it didn’t go on all the way, since it hung loosely after where your knee was suppose to be, but after checking multiple times you confirmed to yourself that it was on right. 

When you looked up again, Jamie was done with the bag and watching you curiously. “So…?” 

So… you frowned, before realizing he wasn’t declaring that you do something for once, but rather he was asking you. Asking you if you wanted to go get clothes. You chuckled, “Do I have a choice? I’ve only got one pair at the moment,” you told him, giving a sniff as you felt your stuffy nose drip slightly. You turned your attention back to rolling up your pants legs, and Junkrat stood up with a creak of his leg, and the resounding noise of his gate neared you. You awkwardly pulled the pants to where they needed to be, and the second you realized it wasn’t going to stay, a pair of safety pins between two black nailed fingers were held down in front of your face. 

You reached out and took them, giving a soft ‘thank you’ as you glanced up at Jamie, who wasn’t looking you in the eye again. You passed it off as him now thinking about the plans of that new leg, and began to pin the cloth of your pants together. 

The door creaked open seconds later, followed by the thuds of heavy boots against the carpet. There were a few clicks here and there as they kicked things out of the way, and you looked up just in time to see Roadhog lifting up his bag, and then heaving Jamie’s onto his shoulder. You could see the muscles rippling along his back and arm as he seemed to easily balance the weight of Jamie’s metal filled duffle, and you had to wonder just how in the world anyone survived any close combat from the guy. He was huge. 

“Are we leaving soon?” Jamie’s hunched form left your side to hastily stumble across your pile from a couple nights ago. He came to a stand still next to Roadhog, who grunted under that mask of his. 

“Well I ain’t done putting my stuff in the sidecar, ya’ drongo. I gotta get me tools in their box, so hold on before ya’ make a trip.” Junkrat’s irritation was clear, like he wasn’t ever ready and everyone was rushing him, or more likely; he was always running late. He paced quickly towards where you’d last seen him messing with a bomb that didn’t work. You’d only half expected him to start neatly packing his tools in a professional looking container case. The other half of you wasn’t surprise when he started tossing this and that haphazardously into a metal tin box that was covered in holes and layered in oil and grease as was most of the things Junkrat owned. He picked up the last of the mess before finding the bent, twisted lid and forcing it on. 

He started carrying it towards Roadhog as he went on talking, “Once we land, Y/n and I are gonna’ go to me workshop and work on ‘er leg together,” he told Roadie, who grunted a few incoherent words and took the box from him. You watched Jamie’s face immediately go red, his mouth falling open as the massive man started out of the door. Junkrat, always needing to have the last word, slapped a hand down to stop it from closing, and shouted out after him. “It  _ is not _ ! It’s not even  _ close! _ ” 

As if you needed a worse headache, and as if his shrieking needed more emphasis, he slammed the door and turned on his peg to pace back towards the bed, muttering under his breath. You stared at him with a ball of nerves in your stomach, wondering what the heck Roadie had said to make him upset. He noticed you staring, and with a wince, you couldn’t help but notice the tips of his ears go red as well. He looked like a little tomato. 

The laughter that escaped you seemed to upset him even more, but all he could do was plop down on the bed beside you and rub his face with one hand, the other hugging over his stomach self-consciously. You must have really upset him, you realized, staring with an amused concern at your friend. You lifted a hand up and patted his gross, dirty shoulder, and you smiled at him as he glanced to you. Then he smiled too.

“Ah, erm…” He cleared his throat, “So I’ve got a pair of crutches in the closet in the base,” he began after a moment, still smiling slightly. “So Roadie will carry the luggage and I’ll carry you to the room!” 

The entire room suddenly tilted, causing a few nuts and bolts that were on their edges to roll off of the dresser and across the floor. Then it was stabled out, and the place felt like it was dropping like an elevator would; not that you’d ever been in one, but it made your stomach flip. Jamie looked excited, already up and staggering around as the airship took a landing. “So we’ll get those, then bring them to the shop so I can fix them to ya’. Then we can work on that leg of yours!” There was a small boom as the doors in the lounge area opened, and Jamie scrambled to grab some of the blankets from your pile. You glanced behind you, to the wall that you wished had a window so you could see where you were at. 

Outside in the hall, you heard the heavy door to Reaper’s office open and swing shut, with the echoing sound of those dangerous, knee-crushing combat boots he wore making a quick beeline for the exit. He must have been in a hurry, or just didn’t like being on the airship or something. You frowned, and turned your attention back to Jamie, who was coming towards you with a few slightly cleaner blankets draped over one shoulder. 

“Out we go!” He giggled in a high pitched giggle, and with a grunt, and a freaked out shriek from you, he lifted you into his arms like he was cradling a baby. He sort of tossed you up to readjust you against him, so you were leaning against the blankets and you had your one good knee draped over his leg, your stump resting against his forearm. He awkwardly used his teeth to toss the blankets down over you, and you quietly wondered if it really was that cold outside that you’d need them. 

Then again, Jamie wasn’t even wearing a shirt. You frowned, wanting to ask him about the blanket situation, but he was already on the move, limping heavily, as he did, out into the hallway. 

As the two of you passed through the lounge, a loud, garbled rumble roared to life down one of the hallways, sounding like an echo from far away. You could only assume it was that same bike that you’d seen the two in so many days before. Jamie didn’t seem to bother looking, and so the two of you made a path down the ramp, and out into what looked like an old, abandoned warehouse district of a ruined port on an island long forgotten by the eyes of the world. 

You could smell the sea air, which brought a spark of joy to your heart, and the island itself was rather flat, since you couldn’t see any hills or mountains. You were sure that if you climbed one of the warehouses, minding the tall apartment buildings around you, you could see from end to end. 

What you wouldn’t give to jump down from Jamie’s arms and go running on the beach, shoes off with your toes in the sand. But you couldn’t. 

You sighed, dropping your head down against Jamie’s hot shoulder, with the blankets covering you in the hardly cold breeze. “Jamie,” you murmured, glancing up at his happy smile. He glanced down at you and the smile got wider, “What are the blankets for?” 

He snorted as if it was obvious, and he turned his head back up to the path you were taking. To your right, so down by your feet, you watched as the distant rumbling turned into a loud growl, and the bike you’d seen Jamie on for the first time drove past, with Roadhog looking comfortable behind the… wheel? You didn’t know, but he looked as comfortable as you’d seen him since you’d met him. 

“To keep ya warm, of course. Ya were cold last time we had to carry ya.” Jamie’s voice was sad, and low, like he didn’t want to talk about that last time. You didn’t remember much, but it was clear that Jamie couldn’t stop thinking about it by the way his smile had immediately dropped into a concerned frown. 

You stared past all the buildings and out towards Jamie’s left, where your head rested. You had to crane your neck uncomfortably, but you caught a glimpse of sand and the pushing and pulling of the tide. Your heart soared, and you knew exactly where you wanted to go.

You looked back up at him, “Jamie,” you said in a quiet, hopeful tone. One eyebrow went up and he returned the look. “Can we go to the beach?” You could feel the hope boil up in you, and Jamie could see it. He looked extremely nervous to even mention a beach, but he sighed quietly, and nodded. 

“Yeah, sure. Just no water or swimming or splashing or anything…” You decided not to ask, assuming it might be a sore topic. Instead, you took joy in the feeling of being carried towards the wind, where you could see the sea out in front of you as you both grew closer.  

Soon enough, you felt Junkrat’s footing slid and he let out a frustrated growl as his prosthetic sunk easily, as a knife would through butter, into the sand. Still, he moved forward, slower now, until you were at the first high dune of sand that came up, marking high tide. At the moment, the tide was out, and you couldn’t have appreciated the ocean’s movements any more if you tried. The entire beach reminded you of home, and as Jamie slowly sat down, you wanted nothing more but to sink your toes and fingers into the sand, maybe find some shells or build a castle like you were a child. 

Jamie must have seen it in your face, as he carefully lifted you off of his lap and set you between his legs like a father might do to their infant. It was comforting...though mildly irritating that he had to do that. You leaned back against him, reaching a hand down to touch the sand like it might burn you. It was pleasantly cool in the cloudy atmosphere.

As you both sat, the breeze ruffled both of your hair, and the sea mist left a salty sheen on your skin. For the first time since you’d known Jamie, you were as happy as you could ever think of being. This was how you wanted to stay. Sitting by Jamie on a beach. It was nice, and he was quiet and… still. 

You leaned your head back on his chest and tilted to look up at his chin, where you caught his eye and his face lit up again. Was he staring? You wrinkled your nose and couldn’t help but wonder why. Perhaps you were being naive, but it wasn’t like you were anything special to him, were you? Some girl from Ilios who was now missing a leg? You sighed and reached up to flick him in the nose, causing him to wince. 

“Hey,” you murmured, giving him a smile as he looked confused down at you. “Do you want to build a sandcastle with me?”

You could see the hesitation in his eyes, before they lit with determination. “Of course!” What he had in mind, you had no idea, but you couldn’t help but grin right back at that stupid smile of his. 

Within ten minutes of trying to cooperate together, you were both giggling and throwing sand, with a half collapsed castle between you both. The sun had set low enough to send a crisp, autumn red wash across the sand, and it’s reflection turned the ocean into a warm purple shade. 

You rolled away from a ball of wet sand that Jamie had gathered, and with your tongue out, you watched in silence as Jamie’s wild smile faded down into that of bliss. He looked from you to the ocean, and back again, before giving a soft, mellow chuckle that you’d not heard before from him. He reached over with his long arms and pulled you towards him, holding you against his chest so you too were facing the sea. 

You gasped as you saw the blood-red bloom that had splayed across the sky, and you could feel Jamie’s happy sigh through his chest. “It looks like fire,” he whispered after a few moments, and you quietly nodded. It did… 

It was beautiful, but you had to disagree that fire was not...fire destroyed homes. 

But Jamie was enthralled by it, and he carefully adjusted his arms around your stomach, with his chin on resting on your shoulder. Together you sat. You were surrounded by Jamie’s warmth, as well as the sight and smell of fire. Somehow, Jamie must have transferred his love for the stuff to you just then, because it all seemed like some kind of beautiful hell. 

The stars eventually started to come out, and the last of the red was but a narrow line along the sea, leaving you and Jamie in the cold, dark shadows. 

Still you sat, with Junkrat there to keep you warm, and the moon lighting the sand with a blue, glowing light. Slowly, you closed your eyes and snuggled back against your living heater, allowing yourself to quietly doze in his arms. This was nice. 

Jamie was nice. 


	19. The Color Orange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say how happy I am reading all of your comments. More times than not, they make my day! I love hearing about how you're liking it, or even how you're not liking it, and I try to improve upon my writing and the story with each comment I get! 
> 
> I'd also like to let you all know that once I hit chapter 20, I'm going to go through and edit some of the chapters, add some things, and try to bring the story and some of the story points together a bit better! I'll definitely be trying to express her fear of fire a lot more, and how her personality is changing. 
> 
> So once chapter 21 comes out, you can totally go back and read all of the things I've changed! :D Again, thank you for all your support, and enjoy chapter 19.

What woke you was the sound of chains and the most articulate thing you’d ever heard come out of Roadhog’s mouth. 

“ _ Jamison! _ ” You jerked awake, and you could tell that so did Junkrat. His entire body went tense behind you, and he immediately turned to stare back behind him, with his mouth gaping open. There was the sound of heavy, irritated breathing coming from the beastly man from beneath his mask, like he was struggling to find his lungs. 

“What?” Still drowsy, Junkrat’s words were but a mutter, with a slur trailing after them. Curious of what was happening, you followed his twist to stare back at Roadhog as well, where the sound of sand scattering and shells cracking under big feet was coming from. Roadie was indeed breathing hard, and he was coming this way through the sand, with waves of sand kicking out in front of him. You swallowed hard, feeling your heart pick up at the adrenaline of what was probably going to be you witnessing Jamie’s murder. The thought of Roadhog coming over here and wringing Jamie’s neck sent a nervous chill down your spine.

Jamie was rubbing sand and sleep from his eyes as Roadhog neared, unaware of the danger as he furrowed his brow and squinted up at his big pal. Within a split second of Roadhog reaching out to grab him, he realized what was happening and let out a shriek of fear. He was up and off like a bolt of lightning, leaving you in the spray of sand he’d kicked up as he shot across the dark beach. 

You sat stunned, your hands were still layered in the sand of castle making, which didn’t help as you tried to wipe the sand from your hair. In the distance you could hear Junkrat’s frantic screaming, and Roadhog’s irritated growls as he tried to catch the slippery Australian.

“Ya ain’t my bloody mom, ya wanker! Go fu- _ uah _ !” The clatters of chains snapped out and you winced as all the screaming was suddenly cut into silence, leaving the only noise to be the rushing static of the tide. You turned towards the havoc along the beach, and a sickened feeling left a hard knot in your stomach as you watched Jamie’s skin torn through by a set of three nails. Roadhog hadn’t been able to get close enough to grab him, so he’d done the next best thing. Now on the ground, with puncture wounds to his abs, you could see Jamie’s thoughts like it was a bubble over his head.  _ Roadhog’s gone crazy. _ Despite trying to dig his fingers into the sand to avoid being dragged towards the beast and avoid his own death, he was reeled in like a fish who’d already given up hope, right into the strong hands of his waiting bodyguard. Roadhog had wasted no time in grabbing him by the arm like a misbehaving child and heaving him into the air.

You nervously struggled up onto your knees, wishing the sand was a bit more solid so you could get some leverage. A horrible pain shot through your thigh as the sand grains dug into your stitches, and you quickly dropped down onto your good hip. You wanted to go over and calm Roadhog down, help Jamie’s wounds and try to mediate the entire thing. Two violent people did not make a calm discussion, that was for sure. But you were useless, unable to even crawl easily over to them, especially when the ground gave under you every time you tried to use your hands. 

You looked up from the beach and back towards the two fighting men, where Roadhog now had Jamie with one hand around his skinny throat, and the other still holding him by the arm. Jamie was kicking his legs out, but no matter how long they were, every kick was like he was hitting Roadhog with tennis balls. Instead, to keep him from flailing about, Roadie shook him the way you really shouldn’t shake anyone. Hard. 

Jamie screamed in terror as his world was jerked around him, and when he fell still, you could hear his loud, frantic wheezing, his voice cracking into his breath. Roadhog let him calm down for a few moments before a deep growl, like he was a massive bear, broke the sea air. His words were clear, despite all the other times he’d grunted or snorted instead of spoke, and you could feel the big man trying to bash the meaning of his words right into Jamie’s thick skull.

“Do you  _ know _ how long I’ve been looking for you?!” Roadhog’s voice was a terrifying mix between gargling nails and smoking for eighty years. Despite that, there was a deep hum of human under there, very clearly separating the mask-wearing man from a monster, unlike the many other times you’d heard him talk or puff. 

You winced at the loud thud of Junkrat hitting the ground, thrown down, and now dizzy, in the sand with his hair wild and his entire body shaking. He was quiet, and he looked absolutely shocked, like he himself had never been yelled at in his life. You found that hard to believe, but you had to give him some slack. If you got screamed at by someone as massive and dangerous as Mako, you’d be a mess too.

A silence hung in the air around you, thick with tension. Hog huffed to break it, finally getting his breath back, and you watched him slowly sit down. The sand billowed up around him from his weight, and he reached behind him to grab and pull at the waist of his low hanging jeans. He didn’t speak, and you could feel his exhaustion even from the distance you were at.

There was a faint whimper, and the little Rat made an attempt to explain. “I … I’m sorry, Mako… Y/n wanted to go to the beach here…” 

He fell silent once more, leaving the waves to swallow up the empty air. Roadhog sighed, scooping Jamie up with one massive arm and dragging him through the sand, leaving a rift in the sand as he closed the distance between them. His free arm reached up and dug his fingers through Junkrat’s hair, ruffing it affectionately. 

“You tell me.” The demand echoed with emphasis, and Roadhog continued. “I need to know in case there’s trouble.” Jamie’s head was released from the cage of fingers, and his hair stiffly stuck the way it was moved, like it was covered in hair gel. He puffed and leaned slowly back against his big body guard, nodding but not speaking. His trembling fell still, but he appeared rather mellow. 

You felt a giddy happiness fill your stomach. The two were so cute you couldn’t handle it, despite all of the violence inflicted within the last twenty seconds, you could see the love between the two, be it brotherly or what, you didn’t know, but it was definitely there. As Jamie cuddled up to Roadhog, and Roadhog kept one hand gripped around Jamie’s bleeding middle section, you managed to roll onto your stomach and sort of army crawl, one arm over the other, towards them. It was kind of embarrassing, but hell, who was going to judge you for not being able to walk? As you neared, Jamie’s head popped up and he let out a long whine, his arm reaching out and touching your closest hand. Within a second of glancing up and shooting him a warming smile, you felt your shirt snatched up by a big fist, and you were lifted up over Junkrat, before roughly landing down on Roadhog’s lap, feeling the sudden blood and gasoline mix burn your nose. 

Junkrat’s arms gathered you against him, and you could feel the happiness radiating off his lean frame. This must have been great to him, you realized, smiling wide as his heat wrapped you up in a tight hug, and he buried his face against your shoulder. Two of his best friends in one close place. And two of your best friend in one place, despite not knowing Roadhog that well. 

You weren’t sat there for long. Roadhog decided he was tired of sitting in sand, and with a puff, he lifted both of you up and over his shoulders, and heaved the three of you off towards the warehouses again. You and Jamie locked eyes from behind the big guy’s back, and he smiled, so you smiled. 

  * \- - - - - -



You and Jamie had picked up the conversation of your leg from behind Roadhog’s massive shoulders. You’d let him go off with all the ideas he must have had running through his head, while you listened and offered your own, naive and novice thoughts on the whole thing. You could see Junkrat trying to process them and be kind enough to offer a way to fit something like it in his plans. An example of that was when he went off about the connection, and you had asked him if you also had to have the straps like his, or if it would be a little more comfortable. He had gone quiet for a bit before smiling and said he’d see what he could figure out. 

After that, he’d continued to go off about how the internal systems worked or the wiring or something, and though you weren’t a professional or expert in the least, it all sounded very primal. He was talking about easily faulted wiring, like in really old houses, instead of wireless connections and motherboards, like a lot of things had these days. You were honestly surprised about it, having assumed he knew a lot about holo and hard light, but after asking a few questions you realized that he despised the stuff. A lot. 

So you’d left that topic be, and by the time Roadhog had dropped the two of you off at Jamie’s workshop, he seemed to be ready to grab a handful of markers and scribble down the blueprint he already had in his head. 

Jamie was set down first, and as he easily balanced himself, Roadhog then handed you down to the slightly shorter man, who craddled you like you were the most precious thing in the world. You smiled softly at the feeling of his arms nervously adjusting where you sat, trying to make you comfortable as he backed into a two way door, like one that went back to the kitchens in old restaurants, then slowly swung shut. As expected, they wavered back and forth until they eventually fell still. You could only assume that Jamie had demanded the doors there for big projects and handfuls of things he would carry that he couldn’t bother opening a door with. 

Whether it was lazy or ingenious you couldn’t decided, but Jamie was definitely the person to not want to take two trips, so he’d carry too much and drop it all. The mental image made you grin. 

“Welcome to me workshop,” said the proud tone of Jamie, and before you knew it you were set in the most comfortable, most oily feeling computer chair you’d ever sat down in. It was torn up leather, but to make up for it there’d been foam stabled here and there, and the entire thing felt like a cloud. Grease and oil coated the arm rests, where you were sure Jamie constantly wiped his hands at now that you saw the long streaks of stains along them. 

You looked up to see Jamie throwing himself onto a stool, also stabled along with padding, and also on wheels. He rolled over to you and before you could process what was around you, he was already giving you the tour. He took your hands in his own nimble ones, and within seconds you were being wheeled through what felt like an aisle of random stuff on shelvings and tables. “I’ve got all kinds of scrap to make into things! My wires and batteries are always on top shelves, and-” you glanced up to see the top shelves spilling over with wires here and there. They weren’t all in the same area on top shelves, but they were definitely only on top shelves. “The bolts and nuts and washers all go on middle shelves in boxes. Metal scraps are on the bottom, and-” there were a lot of cardboard boxes filled with different sized screws and other pieces. You glanced to the side as he wheeled you past one filled with nails, and another that was filled with what looked to be beer bottle caps. You chuckled slightly, feeling like you were suddenly being marched through the massive hoard of a pack-Rat. 

You turned your attention back to Jamie, watching as his eyes lit up as he showed you each thing. He pointed excitedly to ‘rare’ finds he had picked up, and you could see the fireworks go off in his eyes as he pulled you through the couple rows of random pieces, into an open space with about five desks piled with paper, pencils, and works-in-progress. The space was occupied on the other end with boxes of so many bombs you felt like if a fire caught they’d blow the beach into the ocean. 

He was smiling so hard it looked like it hurt. “Over here I’ve got ah- _ uh _ -a p-paint bomb! Black paint, like ink and I thought it’d work right well to throw at the Feds when they’re up me and Roadie’s arse.” He sneered, his grin faultering for only a moment before he beamed back at you and spun you around to join him at what looked like the tallest Blueprint skyscraper in the world. Some were written on, and others were not. Jamie immediately began pulling a few out and seprating some that were blank so he could work on them. 

As he worked, you turned in your seat and craned your neck to stare back at the workshop. It wasn’t big, and it wasn’t professional, but if Jamie had shown you anything else, you’d insist it wasn’t his own. This was definitely Junkrat’s stache of all the things he was proud off, and he must have felt really comfortable with the safety of this base to trust leaving it all here.

You sighed, letting a feeling of bliss wash over you as you turned back to Junkrat, who was scrambling around the desk for a decent pencil. He eventually settled on a washable marker, taking the cap off and testing it along the corner of the first blueprint page. It was deep, discolored green against the blue paper, but it would work apparently, because the next thing he did was turn to you and smile.

“This is going to be the best leg you’ll ever get, just watch! No broken motherboards or stupid computer programs.” He sneered, and you could only sense he had a rivalry with someone else who fought with him over it. You couldn’t think of anyone who used those kinds of things that you’d met yet. 

You leaned forwards, resting your elbow on one of the gross armrests and staring down at the blueprint. “Okay,” you said, nodding. “What’s the first step.” 

There was an odd pride in Junkie’s eyes, and for a moment he just watched you, before giving a grin and leaping off of his stool. “We gotta make measurements!” He turned and limped quickly towards another desk, like he knew exactly where everything was in this mess. You wouldn’t be surprised if he spent hours trying to figure out where he put those pencils of his.

But he came right back with a roll of measuring tape, all tangled and not quite in a roll, but more of a knot. He started awkwardly untangling it as he sat back down, getting enough of it unraveled to move on. He leaned forwards, and you winced in surprise as one of his hands pushed you back, pinning you against the back of the chair. When he knew you wouldn’t move, he reached down and rolled up that pant-leg you’d spent so long on when you’d woken up, and the cold tape was wrapped around the stub of it. You winced as the edge of the tape nudged your stitches, but you said nothing, knowing Jamie was probably too excited to be extra careful. It’d be tender for a while, especially if you had to put weight into a prosthetic, so you’d have to get used to the soreness. So as he measured you, then your arm, then your other leg, you busied yourself with examining the entire room as a whole. 

It was dim, but not too dim that it hurt your eyes. There were a few lights out on the ceiling, but the various lamps that were on in the shelving and on the desks made up for it. A few of the lights on the ceiling had been shot into with scraps of metal or nails or what looked to be a stable gun mishap for one of them. The floor was concrete with stains of oil and various other things splotching it, and the entire place felt industrial, but uniquely unprofessional. There was paint on almost everything; specifically yellow paint. One of the workbenches in the space you were in at the moment must have been specifically for decoration, because for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out what the original color of that damned desk was. There was splatters of yellow, red, and dark green coating it, with spray paint cans emptied and scattering the floor. Buckets and ruined, hard-paint covered brushes were piled high on top of it, and half painted bombs, those yellow ones with the faces on them, were sat on a towel to dry the one half of them.

The last time Jamie was here, they must have had to leave before he’d gotten a chance to finish them or wash those brushes. The sight made your heart ache; you knew Jamie probably didn’t care, but it reminded you a lot of being in the middle of your home life and having  _ someone _ come up and interrupt it. You supposed it got better for both of you this time, though. You met Junkie, and he met you. 

“Y/n!” You blinked and looked up at Jamie, who was sitting back with the marker in his fingers, and green marker already smeared across his nose. You chuckled at his mishap, reaching out and trying to wipe it off. You ended up making it worse, and making Junkrat go cross eyed trying to watch you. Now he had half-warrior paint across his left cheek. He could wash up after, you decided, though were sure he wasn’t going to. If the grease and ash was anything to say for it, he’d be a half-warrior for the next seven months, or until you shoved him into a lake or something. 

“Um,” he chuckled, wiping at his cheek while you sat back. “Just, uh, I saw ya looking at the paint. I ain’t got many colors, but I could get some if you want a different one for ya’ leg… so, what color?” He stared at you, waiting while you gazed back at him. What color? You stared down at your stump, wondering quietly about what you wanted. Sure, you had a favorite color, and sure you could get that, but would it really mean anything to you in the future? 

You pursed your lips, catching the inside of your bottom one between your teeth. You could do blue, like the sea. You definitely liked the sea. Or you could do red, like fire, like Jamie and like your horrible memories. You frowned slightly and looked up at Jamie. Or, you could do orange, like fire, like Jamie’s arm, like the sunset you’d just watched, and like his eyes. 

You liked that. “Orange,” you decided, a smile lighting up your face, and being reflected from Jamie as well. He turned and set to work, and you watched him in silence as he began drawing out the measurements. His fingers didn’t hesitate in their strokes, and you were surprised that his handwriting was so neat as he labeled here and there. It was sharp handwriting, without many big curves or unnecessary twists. It was simple, and extremely fitting to an idiot mechanic like himself. 

At some point, as he was going through with drawing in what was essential there, you quietly scooted your rolling chair over to him with your toes, unable to touch the ground too well, but managing. You made sure not to disturb him, despite his muttering and talking to himself, you were sure it was his way to making sure he concentrated and kept on task. You didn’t want to side-track him, especially if it might have caused him to lose his train of thought. 

So you just watched as he labeled the size of wires he needed, as he worked from the toes up to the knee joint, and to the thigh. He added bolts and arrows pointing to where he needed to add holes or needed a specific type of screw. The joint was riddled with different colors of wires, all drawn in green but labeled ‘red’ or ‘orange’, for future repair purposes according to Junkies muttering. 

And as he got up to the thigh, he paused, his hand hovering shakily above where he’d left an open space, where it would connect to your leg. 

“How to connect it… how…” His mutters were unanswered for the longest time, until you quietly spoke up, deciding that maybe you should comment here. 

“How,” you hummed, catching his attention and causing him to jerk up and stare at you over his shoulder. He looked like he’d completely forgotten you were there, which was actually kind of cute how much he’d been concentrating on his plans. “How do you normally connect it?” 

You leaned forwards and rested your chin on his shoulder, watching as a gentle pink flush faded onto his cheeks. “W-well, uh,” he stared down at the page. “I said I was gonna give ya’ a good leg, but good ones screw into your bone...we’d have to put a metal bit in, so surgery... “ He frowned, a hand moving up to cover his mouth, with his fingers tracing his own cheekbones in thought and concern. “With mine, I put a sensor in there to see where the gravity, so I don’t need to have any nerve sensors or muscle sensors like the new flashy ones they put out there... but the straps are a bit of an issue.” 

You nodded quietly, your curiosity peaked. So if you wanted something to fit well, you needed a screw in your leg? You frowned, “With the screw in, is it removable?” 

“Yeah,” came the hum, “You’d just have to unlock and twist it off. Takes a bit...screw would have to be rust-proof.” 

That made enough sense. “And does your leg move right all the time?” 

“Pretty well enough. Its got a pressure and movement sensor too, so that mixed with the gravity, it’s good. Hard to get used to, though.” 

You stared over his shoulder down at his leg, at how it sat still and was generally unable to swing or do anything else that wasn’t necessary to move. “What’s the pressure sensor for?” 

Jamie turned away from his plans and you gently lifted your chin from his shoulder. “Well, there’s one in the knee, and one here in the stop where it hits my leg, see?” He pointed to where the straps wrapped around his leg and kept it still. There, you could see what looked like a small contraption, something that had been come up with a good twenty years ago, and now was replaced with holo or other more wireless options. This one had a wire going down to the knee. “If my leg flexes, like this…” The muscles tensed in his thigh, wired and lean. It surprised you, honestly. Why you’d expected him to be out of shape you had no idea. As the muscle pushed against the sensor, the leg he had shifted, and lifted up, like he was going to push off of the desk with it. 

It was honestly ingenious. You’d never thought anyone could use such old technology to power a prosthetic. “What’s the one in the knee for?” You could just as easily guess, but while Jamie was already explaining, you might as well pay attention. 

“If I land hard, the knee takes the pressure, and keeps the leg from collapsing,” he said, smiling wide. You nodded, feeling an awe fill you that Junkrat actually thought of all of it. 

“You know,” he began, turning back to the blueprint, “For a while I had just a straight leg, but I found these sensors in a tin can back in Australia, and bang! It was like the idea hit me square in the chest!” He giggled, and you tilted your head slightly, thinking about how that might have gone down. Was he with Roadhog at the time? What was his life like in Australia? 

Did he have to deal with Junkers? You shuttered slightly and turned your attention back to Jamie, who was watching you with those happy eyes of his. You knew you had to make a decision, though Junkie wasn’t exactly in a rush, you thought it would be a good idea to get going. You still had to help him build the thing. “I don’t want straps,” you replied, thinking of how raw your leg would get, especially since you weren’t used to it. He fell back into a contemplative expression and turned back to his blueprints. 

“So we’ll have to put a screw in ya’ leg,” he warned, looking back at you with worry. You sighed, feeling a chill run through you. These boys had taken care of you once before, and they could do it again… if this was going to be your leg for life, you wanted it to be something solid. 

“All I ask is that it doesn’t have straps,” you replied, “You can add whatever else you want to it, and stick whatever you need to in my leg to make it fit, but I’m not going to live with a permanent rash.” You were surprised at your own sureness at this decision, but you had trust that Jamie would do you well. His explanation of how he made his leg solidified that in you. Jamie was some sort of genius, so you would be fine. 

He stared at the page in silence, before heaving a heavy sigh, as if he were more stressed about it than you. Eventually, he lifted his hand and sketched in what would need to be down for your leg, and you watched as he wrote in ‘stainless steel’. 

“So, anything I want?” 

You looked up at him from his blueprints, and saw him smiling at you. You laughed at his devious expression, and you replied simply, “Anything you think it needs.” 

His eyes flashed with excitement and he turned back to cover the page with one of his arms, hiding it from your view as he began scribbling in his ideas. You felt nervous at his excitement, knowing how dangerous he could be, but you had meant what you said. As long as it was a good quality, you were okay. 


	20. Media Attention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- small edits made on 2-22

“There was an explosion two days ago over the tundra of Greenland. Nearby watchtowers report that an airship had spontaneously combusted in mid-flight, after slowly lowering its altitude by three thousand meters, making it still dangerously high from the ground. Despite this, when the airship went down, there were survivors at the sight of its first eruption. This leads officials to believe it was a terrorist attack, and their long-range cameras captured snapshots of a group of five people walking out of the wreckage, with one more who was in an unknown condition. Two of them have an identity that has been confirmed.

“They are Jamison “Junkrat” Fawkes, and Mako “Roadhog” Rutledge. “Roadhog” was said to be carrying a girl between the age of eighteen, and thirty, who’s leg appeared broken, and various images show “Junkrat” watching her; apparently  _ worrying  _ over the wellbeing of this woman. Officials are concerned that, because of the duo’s sudden concern for others, and their organization in a group, Junkrat and Roadhog are gathering a terrorist group, which may consist of themselves, and the three other unidentified people walking with them. Concerns for the woman’s wellbeing and safety, and suspicions that she is also apart of their group are circulating. If anyone has any information on this group, contact us at 1523-153-0033 here in Ilios. That is 1523-153-0033 in Ilios, or go to your nearest station and report your sighting.”

 

“The wreckage of yesterday’s explosion is currently being searched through by volunteers of Greenland. Omnics and humans alike have taken to the scene with hoses and buckets to put out lasting fires, and men and woman have come together to lift wreckage off of three found survivors. There is evidence that there were more, but they were not found at the sight. The survivors that have been found are Lucio, the popular song artist, who has told reporters that he was with D.Va, who was not found, on their way to Canada, when their ship was turned off route by a malfunction. 

The other two survivors were Dr. Zeigler, who claims she was with Lucio for protection with the third survivor, Reinhardt, to protect him. When they were asked about Overwatch, Dr. Zeigler was quick to tell them that they know the law, and it’s not illegal to remain with friends. It is estimated that along with D.Va, just under a dozen other people had been on the airship, and all are undiscovered.”

 

“Evidence of bomb fragments have just been found at the crash sight, confirming the suspicions of a terrorist attack by Junkrat and Roadhog.”

 

“Today, Lucio, Dr. Angela Zeigler, and Reinhardt Wilhelm were spotted leaving the Wellness Shelter where they were sheltered at after the crash. They were uncontested as they left, and where they were going is a mystery. People have been interviewed as saying that the three were inseparable while there, and Dr. Zeigler and Lucio were making calls almost non-stop. It is speculated that they were trying to get ahold of the other people on the airship, in hopes that they were still alive.”

 

“Even two days after the crash, another body was found in the wreckage. The subject was living, and brought to the hospital. They were identified as Mei Ling Zhou, a Scientist. She, and a small robot, were frozen solid in a giant block of ice, which once she was thawed out, she told interviewers that it was one of her robot, Snowball’s, functions. When Mei was asked about the airship, and where D.Va went, or where they were going, Mei replied that she was friends with Dr. Zeigler, and was invited to join her. She didn’t give any details to what she was joining her with, and soon after she requested to rest, and was left to heal in the Greenland Basin Hospital.” 

 

“There have just been reported ties with the fire-fight in the Ilios ruins and the terrorist attack on Lucio and D.Va’s Tour Airship in Greenland. Multiple eye-witness claimed to see Jamison “Junkrat” Fawkes and Mako “Roadhog” Rutledge within Ilios’s town, committing arson to a rich family’s home, and murdering them both. Their wealth was stolen from their safe, and the duo fled the city soon after. Only two days after a fire-fight broke out, and Mr. L/N claims that he had gone up to search for his missing daughter, only to see Junkrat crawling towards what looked to be Lucio and D’Va’s Tour Airship. It is believed that there is more going on here then what has been told, but the identity of the girl held by Roadhog in their escape from the explosion, is Y/n L/n, Mr. L/N’s missing daughter.”

 

“Questions have arose throughout the world about what Jamison “Junkrat” Fawkes could want with Y/n L/n. There are assumptions ranging from keeping her for his own selfish, human needs, or to just have another friend. Many people have pointed out that he appeared worried for her safety in the images of the Airship’s aftermath, and so it’s possible that he could be taking in an apprentice of some kind, or finally feeling the lonely chill of being a criminal. Officials are looking into retrieving Y/n, and making sure she’s safe. Any information on the whereabouts of Junkrat, Roadhog, or Y/n is appreciated, and should be reported to your nearest Police Station.”

 

“Today, more images have been recovered from a malfunctioned long-range camera. This camera was the closest to the wreck, and caught chilling images of further interactions between the now known Y/n L/n, Roadhog, and Junkrat. In the images, the three are seen closer to the wreckage. It is assumed that this is right when they landed. In the pictures, Roadhog appears to have caught Junkrat, which can mean that Junkrat came from the ship. In one picture, the girl has landed hard on the man in black, which can only be identified as Reaper, a deadly mercenary responsible of many deaths. In another picture, Reaper has been captured with a metal shrapnel piercing his chest, but in later pictures he is walking. Officials are spooked by this phenomena, and the site where they were spotted has been taped off for investigation. Junkrat has Y/n in his arms in another picture, and it appears that he is grieving. For now, she should be safe, however any information on her whereabouts is vital for her survival. Junkrat, Reaper, and Roadhog, as well as two other presumed deadly partners, are unpredictable, and she is in danger all the while she is with them.”

 

[SOMBRA PROTOCOLO, ACTIVADA, NULA ARCHIVO, PROTOCOLO TROYANO COMPLETA.] 

_ Sombra protocol activated, file void, trojan protocol complete. _

 

[VACÍO DE DATOS, TRANSMISIÓN FINAL, SOMBRA DESCONECTADO] 

_ Data void, transmission ended, Sombra offline. _

 

“And you’ve gotten rid of all of the pictures?” The deep growl was hardly noticeable in the expansive room, and the words were almost lost in it’s own echo.

All the same, Sombra understood with a sharp nod, her stylized eyebrows knit together in concentration. In front of her, a purple light highlighted and contoured her face as if it were the only light in the room. Despite being constantly condescending, relaxed, and sarcastic, she was a woman of work, and when something as important as her own identity was at stake, she was not going to joke about. She had her hand raised quietly over a panel of various keys, and as one data train ended, she flicked her wrist and a new one appeared. She continued to scan through it all over and over for more broadcasts, more evidence, more pictures. But there were none. Still, Roadhog knew she wouldn’t leave any stone unturned, or any chances. She never did when it came to that kind of thing.

The quiet movement of the shadow that was Reaper captured Roadhog’s attention once more. The mercenary had turned towards the bulky bodyguard, silent and almost respectful of him. Almost. There was always that little bit that Roadie could sense within the wraith of a man that held respect for nobody. Roadhog huffed, quietly warning Reaper to go on before he tested the Hog’s patience. Reaper stared through that skull-like mask of his for only a moment longer before letting out another growl, his taloned fingers sifting through the separate papers out in front of him. “Our mission…”

Roadhog crossed his arms over his chest, beginning to feel anxious that this meeting was taking so long. He often left the Rat alone in his workshop for hours at a time to let him work and figure things out in that maze of a brain of his, but every time he worried his Boss was going to get himself into trouble without Roadhog being there to help. Hell, the chair next to him in the meeting room was hardly used by the Rat. Even when he did show up to meetings, he had a hard time staying seated for more than ten to twenty minutes. He was always up, touching things, or bothering Mako about how to make tea. Whenever he did manage to be blessed with enough exhaustion to remain in his seat, his fingers were picking or disassembling something, and he never paid attention. 

So it was always Roadhog’s job to pay attention, and figure out how to get the Rat to do what was necessary. It wasn’t so much that Junkrat wasn’t capable of doing some of the things asked of him, but his pride was bigger than a lion’s. He did what he wanted, and what he wanted was what he was told not to do. He was like a fourteen year old who’d just figured out what rebelling really was. 

“The Rat needs to be clear headed for this, Rutledge. We can’t have any fuckups from the little shit,” came the command, rough as usual. Mako wasn’t sure how old Reaper was, but more times than not, he was calling Junkrat a kid. Roadie was a lot older than Junk as well, which brought on the question. Who was born first; Reaper, or himself? 

“You listening?” 

Roadhog’s head tilted and he stared out of the glass holes in his mask in silence, his answer obvious. “You need to make sure he’s not going to fuck any of this up, is that understood?” Hog huffed, a silent agreement. The Boss and himself were making good money working with this mercenary. For Talon or not, it was good money, so what needed to be done would get done. 

“Make sure he has enough bombs packed up and ready to go to blow the building off of the map. Leave a damned crator, I don’t care. All evidence has to burn.” Reaper passed over a page with the blueprints of the building, and Roadhog silently accepted it. Jamie would be able to tell where the weak points in the plannings were, and after that it would all be a snap. “He can’t set it off until we’re out of range, you got that? Not on his count. On my count. My signal this time, or it’s a shit show for everyone.” 

Roadhog smirked quietly under his mask, feeling the old leather creak around his jaw as his cheek pushed against it. He remembered that. Last time they had a plan like this, Jamie had gone off the edge and within a second he’d set the entire thing up. Reaper had been caught inside, and they were all lucky that he’d had the hostage necessary with him, or they’d have lost all possible information about whatever they needed. 

There was always one thing that Reaper didn’t seem to understand. Roadhog wasn’t Jamison’s boss. Jamison was Roadhog’s boss. Whatever the Rat wanted to do, Roadhog was fine with going right along with it, but he was also here to make sure that Jamie knew the rules of his contract. Those rules, for another few months at the least until they got paid more, were to follow Reaper’s orders. Still, with those rules, Roadhog found it amusing how angry and disbelieving Reaper had been the first time Junkrat completely discarded his instructions. After that, he’d pulled Roadie aside and told him to do something about it. 

There really was only one thing that Roadie  _ could _ do, and it was to give Jamie the instructions, and the second that he even thought about going against them, bring up some topic that could get him to change his own mind. Hog couldn’t force him to do anything, only suggest things to make him think about it the other way. Then, whether he listened to that or not, was up to him. 

“Amelie, you’re going to set up at the west wing, negative ten degrees back. There’s an old deer screen put up in a pine; It’s got the best view of the west wing’s sixth floor window.” She glanced up from where she sat across the room, her back to the wall and one leg elegantly crossed over the other. She often sat that way, and Roadhog could only believe that it was because nobody could stick a gun to the back of her skull if there was nothing but a wall. In her hands she held a cup of tea up to lips, her nose buried in the steam, and her caramel-gold eyes staring intensely at Reaper as he spoke. When he nodded, she returned her attention to gently blowing over the top of her tea, the steam rising up at her cold breath. 

The mercenary’s attention turned to Sombra, whose eyes had been glued to the data all the while. Obviously, she wasn’t aware of the topic change. “Sombra,” he growled, catching her attention with a quirked eyebrow. He waited for a moment before continuing. “The hallway that Widow will be keeping watch of has no exit. It leads into a safe room, so your job will be to take out any stragglers that make it into that safe room. You shouldn’t have to worry about anyone in the building, or out of the building, just make sure the people in the saferoom are dead.”

“And no shooting at Sombra this time, Amelie,” he added sharply, giving a hiss towards Widow like he was embodying the venomous snake he was. 

Widowmaker’s eyes raised mischeviously, and she lifted her lips from her cup, chin held high with pride. “If I had truly wanted her dead, her brains would be splattered all over those Pentagon walls,” she snorted, her shoulders hunching in defiance. The room was silence, and had Sombra not been working at the moment, Roadhog was certain, by the way her eyebrows creased hard against her nose and how her cheek twitched slightly as she held back a snarky remark, that Sombra would have lashed out by now.  

“Important people who need to be dead,” Reaper sighed, shaking his head. “Vivian Walsh, Olivia Brooklet, Patrick OConnor, and Jeremiah Jacobson, with all of their bodyguards.” 

“I will be on the east wing capturing William Ferris, who we will take back and interrogate for the information that Talon needs. No stragglers, no survivors, no files left. Kill them off, burn the rest to the ground. Roadhog, you’re job includes slaughtering anyone who tries to get out of that building.”   

Roadhog nodded in sync’ with Sombra and Widow, and there was a sucking hiss as Reaper took a deep breath, calming his nerves. There was apparently a lot of money riding on this job, or something else important. Roadie wasn’t sure hed ever seen Reaper his uptight; not in a while at least. At the signal of the black-clad mercenary gathering up his paperwork, Widowmaker and Roadhog stood, leaving Sombra to uneasily get out of her chair like a gamer unable to pry themselves away from their handhelds. She looked like she wasn’t sure where to put her feet, but after a moment of glancing up and orienting herself, she easily walked out of the room, with the screen still capturing her attention. 

Widow watched her irritably before downing the rest of her drink in one smooth toss of her head. She put the cup on the table where she’d gotten it, next to the coffee cups and the coffee machine, before reaching up and starting out, her long hair writhing like a caught snake. Roadie started out after them, knowing he’d have to get dinner for the two rodents in the workshop; they were probably hungry. Usually he tried to get Jamie to eat earlier than eleven at night, but more times than not, it didn’t work that way. 

He let out a heavy huff under his mask, feeling his hot breath brush against his scruffy cheeks as it slowly filtered out. He certainly had a task ahead of him, so he just had to plan out what he’d say to his boss to get him to do shit right. Lucky for Mako, he had an ace up his sleeve, an extra playing card he usually didn’t have; the Mouse. It would be easy to slip that in there somewhere, and surely just nodding his head at her would get Jamie to think clearly and work that knot in his head loose. Maybe he’d realized that if he was in danger, then she was in danger? If he did it wrong then Reaper might hurt her or...something. 

Roadhog wasn’t even sure anymore what went through the kid's head, which was irritating, since he’d thought he’d had him all figured out. Jamie wasn’t that old, so he wasn’t that wise either; though he was smarter than anyone else could even imagine...except for the Mouse, maybe.

How old was Y/n anyway? Couldn’t be much older than Jamie, if she  _ was _ older than him at all. She  _ looked _ incredibly young, and with how naive she was, Hog wouldn’t be surprised if she was eighteen. He’d only sat down with her a few times, but he’d noticed how timid she was around the two of them. Roadie liked the fact that he and Junk were intimidating, it kept the snoops away from them, but she shifted back and forth a lot between liking them and being terrified of them. What went on in that head of hers? 

He couldn’t imagine how it might feel to be pulled from a sheltered life and thrown into Junkrat and his own mess; at least Roadie expected she was sheltered. With the two injuries she had with her arm and leg, not to mention her innocence about danger whenever it was around…

That innocence was very clearly leaving, though. Each time he saw her she knew a little more and looked a lot more like a teenager, or… however old she was, should. Determined eyes, snarky comments, excitement. It was good to see that coming out in her instead of being scared and not wanting to do anything dangerous or even slightly iffy; like that walk with Junk. 

The sounds of the cafeteria reached his ears as he pushed through the double doors. The white lights glared off of the lens of his mask, causing him to squint against them. He hated these stupid white lights; he much rather prefered the warm yellow heat of his bike headlights, or the sun, or fire. White lights gave him a god damned headache and reminded him of all the suits in the world he hadn’t beat the heads in of yet. Reminded him of all the fuckers that didn’t seem to understand that there were people suffering all around them, and they couldn’t think of anything more than money. 

So he prefered fire, or headlights, or the sun. 

Roadie reached out and grabbed four trays, stacking two on top of eachother like he had last time for the Rat to share with Y/n. He balanced them along his forearm and started through the line, watching as a few new recruits, who must have joined up after Reaper took them out for the Ilios mission, scattered out of his way. He filled the trays in silence, adding a bit more on Jamie’s tray to split. Once he managed to threaten another stack of cookies out of the workers, he turned and made his way towards the exit. As he passed through the doors into the open night, the sea air sent chills up his arms as if to greet him.

Outside was definitely where he prefered to be. 

He took a deep breath and felt the fresh air filter through his mask, cooling his scratchy throat. 

As he neared the workshop, he turned his back to the doors and pushed them open with his shoulders, immediately hearing the giggles of the pair echoing around him. As he turned inside, he watched as Jamie jumped from one shelf to another, fishing handfuls of things out of boxes and adding them to an old gallon-tin-can he’d found. As he tossed in a few screws or wires or tucked a plate of metal under his arm, he was going on about a story that Roadie almost immediately remembered. While the story wasn’t amusing, Jamie was theatrically acting bits out, making Y/n laugh and smile. They were a good pair.

“So I’ve got a pile of C-5, the fancy new stuff, and one of me mines, and  _ bang _ the roof blows out like it’s made of paper!” He threw one arm up and nearly lost his balance along the shelves, before he scrambled chillantly back into place. His cackles rang out across the expanse of the workshop, and Y/n’s quiet giggling followed him through like a well tuned harmony. It was nice to see the Rat so happy, really. It was good that Y/n was so patient with him. 

“Then hell, I did the best swan dive I’ve ever done in my life roight into the hole, but! Guess what!” At this point, Jamie had thrown himself back onto his stool, wheeling backwards towards Y/n, who was in a chair herself, watching the engineer work. She quietly replied ‘what?’ as innocently as she seemed to be able to manage, waiting for Junkrat to inevitably continue.

“The entire top floor was non-exi- oh, bloody hell-” the clattering of a dropped metal plate cut him off, then it’s rotating momentum, like a dropped coin, was silenced. He wheeled over and turned the mouse in her chair, pulling her by her hands over towards the bench he had put all of his things on. Roadhog could tell he was absolutely thrilled with having someone to just talk to. It was nice to see him behaving like someone around his age. Kind of. Maybe more like twelve, but that was fine. It was a start. 

“Where was I at?” Roadhog came around the shelving at that moment, nearing the pair with their dinners without their notice. 

“Uh, the top floor?” Y/n’s amusement was clear in her voice, and the moment Jamie was reminded, he took a breath to proceed. That was when he noticed Mako, and the only thing that escaped him was a wild string of curses about what took him so long. 

Roadhog reached out to grab himself one of the extra chairs, pulling it over to sit in as he passed the Rat his food, and Y/n’s tray. By the time Jamie got situated and started piling food onto the mouse’s plate, he was already continuing on his story. 

“Roight, roight,  _ er… _ so I go straight through the hole, swan dive, head-first you know?” He put the fork down he was using to scoop salad and fruit onto Y/n’s plate down, and held his hands together like he was ready to do another. When she nodded, he picked the fork back up, finished piling on food, and handed her the tray. They ate for a few moments in silence before the Rat picked up his story again. 

“Turns out there’s not a god blessed top-fuckin-floor. Son of a bitch, I went straight through a good three stories and managed to land arse down. Thought I was gonna’ break me leg then, mate.” Roadhog suppressed a snort as he saw the mouse’s expression, eyes wide and horrified that it happened that way. Shock, maybe. 

“Then a scrap-heap, the ones we were meant to get rid of, pops up right behind me, says something and then Mako’s arse hit’s him square in the head!” He giggled and stuffed the burger that Roadhog had gotten him halfway down his throat. Must have been hungry enough not to complain about dessert first. Y/n ate quietly as well, watching Junkrat work with curious eyes as he put down his food and greasily picked up the spare tools he had. Roadhog should have brought him his from their stuff… 

He’d get them later. For now, he reached up and moved his mask up over his mouth, taking a bite of his own burger in silence, before putting it back down. The unease of being watched tightened his chest as he saw Y/n’s eyes peering quietly over at him. 

After a while of the stillness, Mako spoke up, watching Junkrat’s fingers quietly rearranging his salad to make it look like he ate most of it. Roadie wiped his own hands on his jeans, adding to the oil stains and blood stains he had all over them. “Had a meeting, Rat.” He watched his Boss’s head twitch, turning towards him with a kind of annoyance. In the corner of his vision, Y/n’s head lifted again, watching quietly with a nosey curiousity in her eyes. 

“And?” Junkrat wasn’t one for prolonging it, especially when he had a project. 

“Blow it up quiet.  _ Quiet.  _ On Reaper’s signal. _ ”  _  Roadie really wasn’t expecting anything other than a snarky comment or a laugh, but what he got surprised him. Not that it was on topic, but it still surprised him.

“I’m thinkin’ I want to take Y/n.” His voice was tight, “Once she’s on the ship, Reaper can’t do anything about it, so she’s going to come. Ain’t leaving her alone with all these Talon people.” He sneered, and Roadhog knew he had something against all these guys working for someone, who Jamie believed, was a suit. The only reason they were here was because Reaper had made a good case for himself, he who wasn’t wearing a suit, and he who had the ability to offer them a percent of his pay.

All Roadhog did was grunt in reply, knowing he couldn’t stop the Rat from taking Y/n along. So he wouldn’t try. It already seemed like Jamie had figured it out anyway, the reason why he should do this mission right. He was taking Y/n, and she had to be safe. 

It was quiet as they continued their meal, with Y/n vibrating with nerves after the news, which was apparently new to her as well, that she would be joining them on a mission. Junkrat was distracted from his food here and there, usually just blanking out into thought or turning to pull on change something on his blueprint. 

There came a point when the Mouse nudged the tray of desserts towards him, and together, mostly just Junkrat, they ate the sugary food. Y/n didn’t seem to like them as much as Jamie. By the end of it all, Jamie had marker and frosting covering his fingers, and Y/n was putting the remaining cupcake down by him so that Roadhog could gather the trays. She wasn’t too stable, trying to scoot with one leg in a bulky chair, but she was helpful, he had to give her that. 

He put the trays off to the side, much rather prefering the quiet tone of the workshop rather than going into the cafeteria to toss some trays at some workers. He could do that later. 

The sound of the sea-breeze cut through the walls as they all were still, with the only movement being Junkrat’s hands and the occassional rumble of his chair wheeling off down the shelves to get something. 

He’d begin building sometime that night, but for now it was prep, so he didn’t have to get distracted while figuring it all out. 

Roadie glanced over at Y/n, suddenly realizing that she’d fallen asleep in the last few minutes, with her cheek pressed up against Jamie’s shoulder, having wanted to watch him work. He was quiet, his head tilted slightly to the side to give her room. They were cute. 

“Um, Mako?” Roadhog looked to his boss, seeing his bright eyes dulled with affection as he pointed a finger at Y/n. Roadhog didn’t need any more than that, so he stood up, and arched his back in a stretch. As he relaxed again, the nice burn of movement making him feel warm, he reached back to adjust his jeans, before crossing the distance between them and himself.

“We’re leaving tomorrow night, Rat.” Jamie nodded, and Mako fished Y/n’s frail little body out of the chair, and heaved her into his arms to take to where she’d be sleeping. He left Junkrat in the workshop to whatever he’d be up to for the next twelve hours, as usual. 

Mako would still come back to check on him in a bit. Didn’t want him to get hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [SOMBRA PROTOCOLO, ACTIVADA, NULA ARCHIVO, PROTOCOLO TROYANO COMPLETA.]
> 
> [SOMBRA PROTOCOL ACTIVATED, FILE VOID, TROJAN PROTOCOL COMPLETE]
> 
>  
> 
> [VACÍO DE DATOS, TRANSMISIÓN FINAL, SOMBRA DESCONECTADO]
> 
> [DATA VOID, TRANSMISSION ENDED, SOMBRA OFFLINE]


	21. Traces of Jamie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the edits aren't out yet; it was a lot more work than I expected it to be, so I may just leave it as it is? <3 I thought you'd all waited long enough for more chapters, and that you'd enjoy hearing more of the story before re-reading edits. So here it is! :)

The sweet smell of tea wafted through the crack in the door, which cast a bar of light across the clean carpet. You woke up on a bed, which was uncomfortably soft; so much so that it made your hips and back ache and pop as you woke and uncurled yourself from a fetal position. With your arms above your head, and your joints burning and awakened with some stretching, you groggily opened your eyes to stare up at the dark ceiling. You turned your head to stare towards the door, your hair messily tangled around your face and staticy against the pillow. This room wasn’t the workshop, that was for sure. The light that stabbed through the room was suddenly blocked by a shadow, and a big hand curled around the door and pushed it open. 

Roadhog came in with a tray of cups in his other hand, where the tea smell was coming from. It was faint, but present. He paused at the door, his mask staring emptily at you as if he were trying to decide if you were awake or not. You took a deep breath and awkwardly reached back to push yourself up so you could sit. The moment you moved, the big bodyguard reached over to the light, and flicked it on. The room lit up with an orange toned, dim glow. He didn’t say anything to you, no good morning or if you slept well. You hadn’t really expected him to, so it wasn’t a big surprise when he stayed silent. 

The big lug lumbered over and set the tray down on the light colored side table, before turning and leaving, with the door swinging closed behind him with a hiss across the carpet fabric. You took a moment to look around the room, curious of where you were. Last you knew, you were watching Jamie’s frosting clogged fingernails pick a bit of grime out of the thread on a screw. Now you were in a room with a cool, steel grey berber carpet and an off white wall color. The far wall had a bleached wood wardrobe, with one door swung open and what looked to be a bunch of shirts inside, with tags on them. One of the legs of the wardrobe had been missing, and was replaced with a metal rung that was bolted on, causing the wood to split up the side. The split wood was taped down with duct tape to avoid further damage to the furniture. On the inside of the open wardrobe door was spray painted with a messy smiling face that had dripped and become misshapen due to the excessive amount of paint that was used. The closed door looked jammed shut, and was slightly crooked. 

Next to the wardrobe was an equally birch colored dresser, with the drawers all closed, but little bits and pieces of the cloths inside them sticking out, making it seem like the clothes inside were stuffed and forced to fit inside. The top of the dresser had an open board for what looked to be a mirror, but the mirror itself was gone, with only a couple small shards of the reflective glass showing at the edges. It must have been broken and taken out. The top of the dresser was covered in a few things that confirmed that this was Jamie’s room. A few crumpled blueprints were floating between cans of spray paint, screws, and a few extra tools like a screwdriver or a few sets of pliers. There was a foot-and-a-half tall stack of blueprint pages that you couldn’t tell if they were scribbled on or not from where you sat on the bed. 

There were sharpies absolutely everywhere, even on the floor around the dresser. It was like he had dumped them out of their container in a hurry because he’d needed it for something important. Between the fix-it job on the wardrobe, and that mess on the dresser, it wasn’t too hard to figure out. You glanced to the white-wash wall beside the bed, where it was pushed up against. There were some markings in pencil, weird chicken scratch that might have been Jamie waking up and awkwardly trying to plan out something he saw in a dream. You swore that one of them was some weird snake thing, and another was probably the layers of a bomb, but you couldn’t decide between that and an upside down tornado. Did Junkrat have nightmares? You tried not to imagine him waking up in the middle of the night and blindly drawing monster’s he’d seen in his head, with shaky hands and only half there; the other half of him in sleep. Your fingers reached up to touch the graphite stained drywall, feeling worry gnawing at you.

You took a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself, breathing in the dark scents of the tea cup near you in the process. Your stomach growled and you quietly turned over again so your one leg was hanging off of the bed. You couldn’t tell what kind it was, but it was definitely black tea of some kind. The bed creaked as you shifted over a bit more, towards the blanch wood stand where the tray was set down. Your toes hit the cool carpet as you leaned forwards to be able to reach the cup, and a chill ran unpleasantly up your unshaved legs. You immediately decided that you were going to stuff your toes back under the covers as soon as possible. And figure out where you could shower and shave at. A sigh escaped you at the thought that you were starting to smell terrible, but it brightened your mood to think that maybe Jamie and Roadhog didn’t care. They didn’t smell like flowers themselves. You turned your attention back to the tray, noticing your crutches between the bed and the table for when you needed them. That was helpful...

As you leaned out, your foot for balance on the chilling grey carpet, to take the cup of morning tea between your hands. As you sipped, you suddenly realized something that you found extremely concerning, considering you were in Jamie’s room. Unnatural even. It didn’t smell like him. The bed sort of did, like he’d sat on it once and awhile, but there was no pile on the floor, no scattered items everywhere. The room smelled like tea and new clothes. You sat back onto the bed and awkwardly, and with your hand against the headboard, you shifted back under the covers. You managed not to spill your tea in the process. 

You dropped your gaze to the cup, looking at the little tag sticking out of the dark tea. English Breakfast? You were used to lighter teas or fruit teas, like chamomile or just straight up green tea or white tea. You looked over to the tray again, feeling grateful as you saw the handful of sugar packets and the jar of honey and a spoon. Roadhog must have thought of everything. You reached over again to grab the packets, carefully emptying two of them into the tea and using the spoon to stir. You were careful to blow over the top of the drink to cool it before you tasted, and added two more packets of sugar before putting the rest back. 

So where was Junkrat if this was his room? Was he still in the workshop, building your leg or something? Your chest clenched in irritation at the idea that he didn’t even sleep through the night. He was going to wear himself down, and you had a mission coming up, apparently. 

You sighed and set the tea quietly back onto the nightstand. You would just have to go check on him then, after figuring out what part of the big warehouse building you were in. Maybe on the way you could find some lunch… Or find Roadhog to show you where to go. You felt a bit nervous walking around with all of the crowds and filing lines of people you’d seen when the airship landed. You sighed, feeling your nerves ruffled at the idea of getting lost or something horrible happening. What if you just… 

What, died? You shook your head at yourself, knowing you were overreacting to the situation. There was no need to be anxious, you just had to find your way to Jamie.

You swung your leg over the side of the bed again, looking over the stump that remained of your left one. It was the second day without it. At this point most people would be having phantom limb issues, but you’d been dealing with a fake leg for a while; a leg you couldn’t feel too well. There was a little remaining of thinking you were moving it, but nothing happening, but maybe your brain had accepted its loss a long time ago.You reached over towards the crutches you’d seen, pulling them out from between the frame of the bed and the side table with only a little trouble when one caught on the tray and you nearly dumping the entire thing. You adjusted them under your arms and with an awkward struggle to remember how to use them to stand, you stumbled onto your one remaining foot, and nearly biffed it into the middle of the floor. You stared down at yourself, at the oily sweatpants that were safety pinned up around your left thigh and your crumpled shirt, stiff with salt. You sighed and looked to the open wardrobe. Jamie wouldn’t mind right? He only wore one pair of shorts anyway, and most of the shirts had tags still. 

Awkwardly, you shuffled over on your one foot and two crutches towards the roughed up wardrobe, leaning against the one jammed door and setting one of your crutches against the open side so you had one hand to work with. You shifted through for a few moments out of pure curiosity, positive that Roadhog had picked the shirts up for Junkrat at some point. The few you went through ranged from an old Nirvana Tee, cracked slightly from the age of the band, to a few anti-bot campaign shirts. Everything in between were graphic tees for cartoons or tourist shirts. You pulled out a rusty colored shirt and draped it over your arm.

You stuck the crutch back under your arm and turned to the dresser, taking a few moments to shift through boxers and various straps or belts before you came across a pair of dark brown cargo pants, jammed into one drawer with a bunch of others, burned or torn up. This pair was in decent condition, though a couple belt loops were broken and the bottoms were a little singed. There were a few small holes here and there, but it was good.

You backed up onto the bed again, and went through the process of taking off your dirty clothes. You couldn’t imagine Jamie actually wearing pants, he didn’t seem the type to put pants on, honestly. He would probably end up catching himself on fire or getting tripped up on his prosthetic. The image of him stepping on his other pant leg with it and tripping went through your mind as you dropped your shirt off onto the ground and giggled. That was probably as accurate as you could get, and you decided that until you were proved wrong, that would be the reason for why Jamie didn’t like pants. He tripped on them. 

You quietly pulled the too-big shirt onto your small shoulders, looking down at the cracked logo of Kings Canyon, at some National park that was too worn for you to read at the moment. You reached down to pull the cargo pants onto your hips, buttoning and zipping them despite their looseness. You’d have to borrow a belt. The safety pins from Mei’s sweatpants were transferred onto Jamie’s pants as you pulled the leg up. 

Once it was secured, you reached for the crutches again, and heaved yourself up. The shirt unfolded from where it had bunched up at your waist and hung down to just below your mid-thigh; just above the knee. The pants were so baggy they folded down and tucked under your foot halfway. They hardly clung onto your hips, so you took a trip once more to the dresser and pulled out a grungy old cloth belt to slip through the intact belt loops, and tighten around your middle section. 

All set to go, you made your way to the door, not bothering much with shoes. You only needed one, and it wasn’t like you were going to go out into public. 

The hallway was warmer than the room, which you could only assume it was because it was a close space. Maybe it was hot out and it was transferring into the halls, which would be good news for you, since that meant a door was nearby. You tried not to think too hard about which way to go, and took a left, making sure to close Jamie’s room behind you. 

So the things you remembered about the base was that it was a series of warehouses made into residential, offices, and probably a mess hall somewhere. Your stomach growled in annoyance, and you sighed quietly at it. If you had a chance, you’d follow the smell of food first, and find Jamie second. 

As you meandered the halls, you noted the absence of any people. There were no soldiers, no special operatives. You assumed any special operatives would stand out as much as Junkrat did. Everyone else would probably be following a uniform; that made Widowmaker, Sombra, Roadhog and Reaper special operatives as well. Were there any more like them? 

You sighed, looking down to the left at one of the turns in the hall. You were stuck at a T now, trying to look for signs of a window down either end, or smell warm food, or maybe someone you knew.

You sighed and took a turn down the right instead of the left, not seeing any reason for you to go one way rather than the other. You eventually came to a turn with a set of wide windows and a set of double push doors that lead outside. You squinted into the light and wait for your eyes to adjust before being able to make out what looked like a bunch of men running around a track. Standing at the front of all of the men, the wraith-like form of Reaper commanded authority. 

You watched in silence as a few of the men began to slow, before the muffled bark of Reaper’s gruff voice urged them onward. You were caught up in your own curiosity as you found yourself pushing out of the doors, letting them quietly close behind you as you leaned up against the wall just next to it. The rough brick scraped your back through your, Jamie’s, shirt, as you adjusted yourself so you weren’t putting all of your weight on your crutches.

The morning was cold, with the faint scent of sea-spray roaming along the courtyard. Outside now, you could hear the faint, rapid pounding of hundreds of feet. There were definitely a lot more than you’d previously noticed. 

Reaper was roaming back and forth along the side of the track, always facing away from you an examining his troops. The sun made the asphalt shine black, and it almost made Reaper seem translucent. This place was so much like home, but so much different all the same. It smelled like salt, and the sun felt the same, with the same sea-fog. Instead of bustling businesses in front of you, it was a row of trained, deadly soldiers. 

“Pathetic! I’m gone for a month and you’re all breathing hard after ten laps!” The angry growl of Reaper brought you back from your nostalgia. You raised your eyes up to see all of the men slowing to a stop. Reaper’s heavy boots thudded and clicked against the track, and you noted quiety that he wasn’t wearing what he usually did. Instead of his dark leather and metal boots he was wearing a hoodie instead of his cloak, with a black undershirt, with flexible, loose exercise pants, also black. Instead of the metal boots that went up his calf, he wore heavy combat boots with a few steel plates along the sides for a bit of armor. When he stepped, the metal ends of the laces clicked against the hard metal plates.  In this wear, you could tell the actual physique of the man. You felt a hard knot of fear clench in your throat. He was still massive. His shoulders weren’t quite as broad without what you realized were shoulder padding; armor to avoid damage. His hips were narrow but his legs were like tree trunks, even under the gentle ripples of his loose sweats. You suddenly understood how easy it must have been to break your knee, and how little effort it took. What was a little metal joint to legs like  _ those _ . You scrunched up your face in a grimace, and awkwardly reached around your crutches to rub at the skin where your arm connected. 

If something happened, though, Jamie would fix it. And then you two would match with an arm and a leg. You smirked at the idea, knowing that Junkrat would find way too much joy in it. 

The shouting continued as the men went on for another lap, or maybe ten. You hadn’t heard Reaper’s gravely command too well, between the rocks in his throat and his mask muffling it slightly. The more you looked, the more you realized that behind the mask, and under his oversized hoodie-hood, there was a face. That black in his mask wasn’t fabric or solid, it was hollow. The sun sometimes glinted and dipped into the holes, or a puff of smoke would wilt out of them. 

You focused on his hands, seeing the leather gloves still there. You’d get no hint there as what he looked like. Maybe he was too mangled to want to show his face? Did he have some terrible disorder that ruined his throat or something. A big scar? Big nose? You smirked, thinking on to how he could just have terrible allergies that make his throat raw, and have a massive nose all the time. The smoke threw the theory off, but you decided it would still be hilarious. 

By the time you snapped back into focus, Reaper was halfway across the way, coming towards you, one hand tugging over his hood. Fear simmered in your stomach; you couldn’t run if you tried. You wouldn’t be fast enough to even get up and make it into the building again at this point. If you tried you’d look weak, like he thought you were...or that you were? You let out a shuddering breath and tried to compose yourself for facing the man who shattered your knee. You didn’t have Jamie or Roadhog here to protect you either… You glanced towards the door, and with a huff, you tried to push yourself up and towards it. Your crutch caught, and you fell, feeling the sudden loss of balance make your head spin. The ground came at you fast, and the moment you closed your eyes, the neckline of your shirt dug sharply into your skin. Seams popped and a couple tore, and the taught feeling of your shirt being pulled brought you back into reality. You stared at the ground, inches from it and still moving further away; Reaper caught you… again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I promise there is more to the next chapter XD


	22. Two Birds of a Feather

This kid was almost unbelievably dull, both in character and in street smarts. Reaper couldn’t be sure about the booksmarts part, but when did that ever get anyone anywhere? He pulled the light girl to her feet - foot - and reset her crutches under her arms while she got her bearings again. While she did, Reaper turned to face away from her, watching his men as they ran. This was not why he’d agreed to be a mercenary for Talon; to go back to training soldiers and shouting orders. Hell, shouting wasn’t exactly good for his throat at any point anymore. Still, it was pay, and he was getting where he needed to get to; the next Overwatch Operative who had not attended the recall was in Canada, just in the town nearby.

“T...thank you?” The quiet voice brought his attention back around to the girl, who was standing, hunched and cowering in that much-too-big shirt she was wearing, against the brick. Reaper sneered, feeling the inside of his cheek suddenly sheer off in a chunk. Damn it… this decay thing was disgusting. He turned away from the girl again and lifted his mask from the bottom, taking the wad of thick blood and rotting skin, and spitting it out in a smoking black ball onto the ground. Beside him, the girl winced and he could see her cover her mouth to gasp as he put the mask back on. The smell was something he’d gotten used to; he supposed she wasn’t akin to any death at all.

Naive little shit. She wasn’t supposed to be out here at all, where was the Rat? Obviously not watching her. He growled and reached for her arm, pulling at it and causing her to yelp, but she followed the pull. “Where’s the Rat.” He needed to know so he could send her back to where she belonged; not here. 

He pulled her along after him, feeling her muscles twitch violently under his palm. The awkward, short clicks of her crutches followed him into the double doors and onto the tile. When she answered, she was short of breath. “J-just… p-probably in his workshop. I got lost…” 

Reaper sneered, cutting off any explanation she might have had, rolling his shoulders back. Every word out of her mouth was like watching a veteran beg for change on the streets. It wasn’t upsetting, and to a point, it was irritating. It was the knowledge that they had something more that they weren’t, and it was the knowledge that they weren’t going to try to be something more until pushed. The problem with that was that she wasn’t going to be pushed by Jamison, so she was going to stay in her much-too-obvious shell until it was broken. So Reaper had to deal with explaining to Talon why there was a civilian of no use around, and Overwatch would put Talon on the top of the list because Y/n was just that; a civilian in the hands of Talon. Of Reaper. 

It was going to cause far too much trouble unless she just dropped off the face of the earth like Widowmaker had, resurface as a new identity, and someone with some god damned use. Not a spoiled, ignorant, sheltered girl from a sea-side pisshole. 

Frustration tightened his chest and he glared out the window to their left, staring at his men running. He supposed there was only one way to make this situation work; he’d have to have a little talk with Jamison. 

He pulled the girl after him, his mind grinding out possible solutions to the situation at hand. She had to be pushed to open up, to find something she could do. The Rat was treating her like the child she was. Going places she shouldn’t, whining like a lost fucking puppy. Gabe was sick of everything this girl did already; it was all the bad characteristics of everyone he’d hated back in Overwatch. Mei’s constant apologizing when she was present, Tracer’s naive start, the sudden bursts of ignorant defiance that usually had come out of McCree then backed down into the quietness of Ana when she was angry. Only problem was that this girl didn’t  _ get _ angry enough to stay useful in any way.

And why, because of some bad start? No parents? Those injuries? He huffed under his mask, feeling another slow slid of flesh down this throat. He coughed at the smell of decay as it smoked out of his mask, and he tore up his vocal cords with a few rasping hacks. Damn this curse to hell. It was bad enough the outside of him was rotting, but the worst was the insides. Pains of his throat sheding flesh and regenerating, his lungs filling with blood as they did so much quicker than everything else. At least the process was a few minute process every once and awhile, maybe two or three weeks, but it was disgusting. Everytime he breathed in, he smelled his own body giving up on him. 

He stopped to pull up his mask again and spit another wet pile of red, puffy flesh into the ground. Behind him, the girl gagged and pulled against his grip on her. The pile smoked and coiled into black mist, non-existent as it began regenerating. 

He turned back to her. “Stop,” he snapped, his throat feeling like he’d swallowed a packet of razor blades. As he stared through his mask at her, he watched her fall still, avoiding eye contact and looking sick. Squeamish, add that to the list of annoying personality traits she had. But there was still a shimmer of something there, something she wanted to say that she didn’t. He could just…  _ fucking see it. _ Again, a talk with Jamison.

By this point they were stepping outside onto the runway for the airships, and moving down the hard gravel paths towards Junkrat’s workshop. The hard breaths of Y/n’s struggle behind him and their feet crunching on the gravel were the only outward sounds. Inside, Reaper was going over the list of points to be made and how to make them so the Rat understood for once. 

He pushed the door open violently, creating a shrieking echo into the vast inside of the workshop. The smell of paint fumes was suffocating, and oil and old food came after. Paint was splattered across the floors and slowly drifting into the drains on the floor, and there were screws and metal pieces scattered everywhere. In the back, between the shelves, Reaper spotted Roadhog sitting in one big chair, and while Jamison wasn’t in view, the tinkering and muttering noises were easily heard. 

“Fawkes,” Reaper barked, and the sound of clattering metal boomed from the back of the warehouse. 

There was a hesitant answer, after the metal stopped ringing and the silence soothed the room for about three seconds, the Australian called. “Er, back here, mate.” The sound of chair wheels and the pushing of metal out of the way followed that, and Reaper gave an irritated grumble. He let the girl go, watching her as she quickly edged away from him, holding her right arm where he’d had a grip on her.

And he moved through the shelves in silence, for all but the hard clicking and heavy steps of his boots. He skirted around the orange paint spills and piles of dropped bolts or tools, eyeing them with disinterest. Crutches followed him back, and as he passed the shelves into the workspace, he could see the situation a little more clearly. Jamie was sitting at one desk with paint everywhere, he was covered in it up to the elbows, and he looked like something had exploded on his face. His hair was smeared out of his eyes with orange paint dried in it, and his face had a single hand-mark, one line across his right jaw, and then leading up to the corner of his eye on that same side were two finger marks. More paint was plastered over his lips and under his nose, making it obvious that he’d put his hand on his face in order to think or in exasperation.  

The unholy smell of rot came from one of the garbage cans that the lid had been taken off of for some reason unknown, and the oil was spilled over by some other desk. This place needed a god damned power washer to peel the grime off of the floor. Roadhog was to Reaper’s left, reading a book and kicked back in a chair, his feet up on the desk itself. Two empty breakfast trays, and one filled, were stacked on top of eachother nearby.

Junkrat's head jerked up when he heard them approach, and there was a moment before he fully registered Y/n. It was like Reaper hadn’t even existed at that point, and while he could say it was touching, he was more irritated than anything. The Junker threw himself out of his chair and stumbled over toward the girl, who’s nervous facade dropped the moment he put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her towards the desk with him. An inconvenience to the reason he was here, but Reaper obliged by moving out of the way, allowing their little reunion for the time being. He’d wait to tear into the Junker until they were through.

“Where’d you go, Sheila? Roadie went to get breakfast and when he’d got back ya’d vanished inta thin air!” The Rat giggled sharply as he threw his free arm about with exaggeration. He pulled up the wheeled chair for Y/n to sit down in, and got himself a stool instead; immediately their backs were turned to Reaper as they started off on something set up there. 

“Oh my god, Jamie!” Reaper cringed, curling his lip at the little name. Really? That crazed rat looked like a ‘Jamie’ to her? “Is it done? And you even painted it! I-I mean, clearly, but…” 

“Oi, I ain’t got time to be clean.” 

“Jamie it’s all over your face!” Y/n was giggling, now turned towards the Rat and using her fingers to pinch and peel at some of the paint that was caked on his face. 

“Hey! Oi, ow, sheila, stop!” He whined, leaning back on his stool to try and escape her fingers. “Quit it, you’re pullin’ at my mustache hair!”

She made a face at him, a defiance that was rare for Reaper to see from her. “Well if you’d take a damn shower, I wouldn’t be ripping dried paint off of your face- w… mustache?” 

Fawkes rubbed his face where she’d pulled at near his lip, and he spoke in a high pitched whine. “I-I mean… th-there’s one comin’ in…”

“There is?”

“Yes!”

“Really..?” Y/n made a face and rose one eyebrow, like someone had just said something disgusting, or perhaps just utterly unbelievable. 

Jamie’s shoulder’s slumped and he muttered, “No.” There was a long silence before the two of them began to crack up into laughter, eventually turning back towards the thing on the desk. “Oi, Y/n, we can put this on you today, you’ll be all set by tonight to walk again! Like it neva happened, this leg thing.” 

The girl whined, biting her lip and reaching out to touch the shiny enamel paint. “Okay, but how does it work? Is it like yours with the sensors and the springs?” Reaper rolled his eyes, deciding now was the time to step in. 

As the Rat was starting to ramble on about the mechanics of the thing; as Reaper got closer he saw that it was a leg, much like Jamison’s arm, but made for Y/n with how small it was. 

“Fawkes,” Reaper interrupted, his tone so sharp it caused all three of the other people in the room to look up at him in silence. “Outside. Now.” 

He watched the faces of the pair fall, and Y/n nervously sit back down. She thought she was in trouble, and he could see it in her face. She was close to the truth, but not quite. Reaper turned, and he heard the creaking of Jamie following him out. 

As he stepped out, the door held as Jamison pushed his way through it as well. There was a few crunches along the gravel, and Reaper leaned himself up against the wall of the building. The door clicked closed, and Fawkes stood stiffly by it. “What’d I do?”

He sighed; time to go through the list. “Well, Rat, it’s time to have a talk about Y/n- Ai- don’t interrupt me,  _ culo _ .” He snapped irritably at the Junker, reaching up to scratch at his chin under the mask. 

“You know she’s a useless piece of shit. What- did I say about interrupting?” He crossed his arms, his hoodie stretching over his biceps with a comfortable tension. The Rat’s mouth snapped closed and he growled under his breath, displeased at his little friend being insulted. He’d have to deal with it. “She’s useless, and if she’s useless she’s a fucking civi. You know what that means, Jamison? She’s going to be terminated by Talon operatives who find it out that we’re carting around a civi with absolutely no value.” Fawkes huffed angrily and opened his mouth to protest for a third time. Reaper cut him off with a sharp bark, “ _ Escuchar, culo! _ They’ll come in and slit her fucking throat, or maybe you’d like to see her go in for Reconditioning. Come back like Widowmaker?” 

The silence festered between them, and he watched as the Rat’s face went from defiant, to a sudden understanding of the entire situation at hand. As a civilian, Y/n was a drawback and a liability to the team, especially since Fawkes was so close with her. Talon would want all outside forces not under contract destroyed to avoid distraction and corruption in their ranks. Simple as that. 

Reaper let out a heavy sigh, ending it with a growl. He could feel another piece of his throat coming apart. The smell of death filled his nose and he turned his head to cough it up. With a few moments to spit it out and let it begin regenerating, he turned back to the Junker at hand. “Listen,” he croaked, catching Jamison’s attention once more. “You like your little plaything, sure, Rat. But she’s distracting you, and the boss is going to notice if your performance tanks. I get it, you don’t want to let her go. Can’t release your little butterfly. So guess what you get to do,  _ pendejo _ .”

“You get to figure out how to make her useful. Figure out what she’s good at. I’ll give you three weeks to bullshit something out of her. Teach her to shoot, or hand to hand or throw a  _ fucking bomb _ . Just get me something I can stick in a contract, or add into your contract, so Talon doesn’t have our heads on this shit.” He watched the Rat’s eyebrows furrow so hard it shadowed his deep-set eyes. He was thinking for once. Good. 

“I don’t want you coming up to me in three weeks saying she’s just how she is either, you got that? I see how she changes around you, she opens up like a book. Figure out what lights her fire, something that puts a spark in her eyes. Right now, she’s some scared kid away from her parents, she’s got no confidence. Give her confidence, Rat. She’ll take it from you. You’re what she has right now.” 

Fawkes lifted his head slightly and looked up at the mask Reaper was wearing, searching the sockets for eyes as it seemed. After a moment, he sighed. “She does seem sad, huh…” Reaper didn’t reply, waiting for something to click in that fucked up, balding head of his. There was almost a minute of silence, something that felt far too long to be just a minute, but the sun hadn’t gone down, so it couldn’t have been too long at all. Jamison straightened up, and hurried back inside. 

Reaper supposed his job was done now. All he’d have to do was check on them in three weeks at most, and hope he didn’t have to cut the girl's throat. Then he’d have to deal with all of this work on his own. He was sure that without the girl, at this point, Jamison Fawkes would cut the contract short and make Talon’s job with these next handful of missions so much harder.

And it’d make Reaper’s even worse. 


	23. On the Way

The pain was absolutely unbearable. You weren’t sure how you were supposed to be able to walk, let alone go on this mission. The weight of the leg that now hung heavily off of your new knee joint was putting so much pressure on everything. You were used to dead weight, but you weren’t used to a chunk of metal bolted into your bones. It felt like your leg was going to bend and snap at the end of your heavily stitched up stump. 

The worst part about all of it was that you were crying through the pain, and it was upsetting Junkrat. He was twitching and fidgeting and unsure of what to do, clearly worried despite you telling him that you’d get used to it. He was more concerned than you seemed to be. You knew you would. The first time you got replacements, the joint replacements in your arms, you had felt a horrid pain, even got phantom pains for years after that. This was no different, other than...well, it was shiny, orange, and if you wanted to you could unlatch and unscrew it out of the socket. Junkrat really had thought of everything you might want. 

Of course, it didn’t seem stop him from thinking he made a huge mistake in letting you come on this stupid mission. You didn’t blame him for feeling bad about it, but it didn’t stop you from wishing he was smiling again. You could manage it through a night of whatever it was you were going out to do.

It was early in the afternoon. Your mind was foggy and your body ached heavily after waking up from a short and unprofessional surgery on your leg. You were feeling more and more exhausted with the effort it took for you to try and move the leg in the slightest, even just to keep your muscles from falling asleep or aching from sitting too still. It was far heavier than you’d expected, seeing as though Junkrat had lifted it with ease when showing it to you before you went under. He’d even told you that his own leg was twice as heavy as the one you’d gotten, which you weren’t sure if that was an over exaggeration, or not. And now, you had to get up and walk around on it… your legs were probably a lot stronger than your arms were, luckily, but the muscles burned in their attempt to even keep the leg where it needed to be. It worked on the same mechanics that Junkrat’s did, perhaps a little smoother to avoid jerky, painful shifts of momentum. It moved where you wanted it to, but you couldn’t feel anything. It was weird, like it knew what you were doing before you were doing it. 

The next hour, as much as it made your head hurt, was spent multi-tasking; Junkrat trying to gather bombs and triggers to pack up for the mission that night, while Roadhog popped in here and there to grab scrap metal or a filled bag of explosives. Junkrat was trying to help you out as best he could while still packing, holding your hand impatiently while you painfully got to your feet, helping you into the crutches he’d brought in. Every once and awhile when you began to lose your balance, he was there, scrambling over a desk to catch you and right you. At some point you’d even slipped in a pile of who knew what and he’d throw over a mostly empty shelf to get past and catch you before you ate the tile. There were bolts and metal pieces ringing through the room from the fall, but at least you still had your teeth. You had to admit it had been pretty adorable to recalled the frantic hands trying to grab your arm and help you to your feet again, as if he hadn’t just knocked over some of his things.  

Before you knew it, the time you had to get used to your leg was gone. You were sweating, one of the stitches had started bleeding, and Jamie as holding half of a heavy pain killer out for you to take so you could, at the very least, remain conscious in front of Reaper. 

It all went by so fast, and by the time you realized you were walking up the ramp to the airship, your stomach suddenly knotted. You didn’t know how long you were going to be in that airship. It certainly wasn’t as big as the last one. Beside you, Junkrat had a gentle hold on your bad arm, not tightly, but firm enough to keep you upright. Ahead of you, the dark figure of Reaper stood beside the opening, watching with that dead mask of his, and the slightest trail of smoke lifting from the eyes. You could hardly recall the travel here, only the sudden shock of seeing Reaper again. He didn’t look much different than before. Broad shoulders, dark colors, and his arms crossed stiffly over his chest.

You reached over with your good arm, your fingers touching absentmindedly at Junkrat’s rough and scarred knuckles. You were glad Junkrat was at least here. It wasn’t like you were alone but… You were going to be in close quarters with Reaper, and possibly Widowmaker for the entire trip. In an airship smaller than before. At the thought, the bad situations that could come out of this began playing through your head. Reaper could hurt you again, break your arm, even get sick of you and kill you. Junkrat might even try to defend you, to save you. The reminder of the massive explosion that was the probable and possible death of your overwatch friends flashed through your mind. That was the last time Junkrat tried to  _ save _ you. What if they didn’t want you here, and kicked you off? What would happen to Junkrat? Would he be okay if you weren’t allowed to go? Despite the anxiety of being on this mission at all, Jamie seemed to be glad you were there. What would his reaction even be if you couldn’t go? 

The sudden heat of the interior bathed you, and the stench of being so near Reaper made your eyes water. The oddly familiar sound of the taller, black-clad man hacking out his tar-like spit so uncaringly almost made you sigh in relief as you passed. He didn’t seem bothered at all that you were coming along, at least. He made no move to stop you from entering the airship. 

As you moved further inside, your eyes scanning the interior as best as you could without losing balance, Jamie gently placed an arm around your shoulders, cupping you towards a pair of seats off to the side. This place, the way it was set up, reminded you of how your father once said the old army airships were set up. There even seemed to be the same slanting door he described near where some of the cargo was tied down. Did that open? The thought of having to leap out of another airship made your stomach lurch. Hopefully if you had to again, it wouldn’t be in a rain of fire. 

You sat despite your worries. There was going to be no need to worry when you got to the mission, after all. You had to convince yourself of that. You had to assure yourself, despite not knowing anything about this mission. What you were going to be doing had something to do with being helpful to Junkrat but...weren't these guys the bad guys? You weren’t sure how you felt about...

Jamie sat beside you, reaching over you to set your crutches off to the side. He leaned in so close you could smell him, smokey as usual but you really thought he should try and shower. The smell was enough to knock you out of your thoughts and make you scrunch up your nose. As he leaned back, crutches in your reach and off to the side, you leaned back too, bringing your hands together in your lap. The ability to sit and take full weight off of your leg made you want to groan out in relief, but your nerves kept you silent. Beside you, Jamie’s leg began to bounce, his fingers knotting into one another like yours were. He was hunched over, his beady eyes staring blankly out at the opening to the airship, waiting. You weren’t sure what you were waiting for, but you decided to wait with him. You even tried to mimic his stance in his chair to see if you could make him laugh, but he wasn’t paying any attention to you, so you sat back again. Leaning forward was a bit painful.

Eventually, Widowmaker entered the airship, with her a gun, what looked to be a blanket, or maybe that was considered a quilt, and a purple and black case. It had a talon symbol on it, as well as a sharp pointed ‘W’. The thought of Widowmaker having some kind of instrument made you smile and divert your gaze, not wanting to offend her unintentionally. The reminder of her cold eyes and sneer made you extremely cautious of her. 

The woman from the other airship eventually showed up as well, wearing a long, fluffy looking trench coat and holding a thermos of something in her hands. Her nose was red and she looked flustered, like she was so sick of something that she couldn’t even be mad at. You immediately decided that she was probably not someone who enjoyed the cold. The smell of coffee filled the room eventually as she let it fester, using the too-warm heat to warm her hands instead of drinking it.

You leaned over to Jamie, resting your head slightly on his shoulder. He didn’t move for a moment, before a shutter went through him, like he was just realizing the contact. His head tilted, and he stared down at you in silence. You looked up at him, giving a small smile to try and calm his nerves. All that did was make him worry his lip between his teeth, but you supposed it was well enough to get him out of his thoughts. You still had no idea what you were all waiting for. Maybe Roadhog, but wouldn’t he make it on his own time anyway? What was so worrisome about that?

The sound of a sniffle and a foreign language you couldn’t place through only mutters caught your attention. You reached up and poked Junkrat’s arm, and with a gentle motion towards the woman with the purple hair and the coffee, you asked, “ **What is her name?** ” You remembered her clearly as the woman over the intercom, the one who was with you when the ship exploded. If she made it, maybe your friends at Overwatch did too, but now wasn’t the time to tell. As much as that was upsetting, it wasn’t the time to tell.

Junkrat’s head tilted slightly and he straightened up a little bit to look over your head, staring at Sombra, who was preoccupied with one of her screens. You quietly watched him, able to look over his sharp face and see the slight bags that had formed under his eyes while he gathered his thoughts. It didn’t take him long to look back down to you and give a light smile. “ **A’ts just Sombra. She’s a computer wiz, but she doesn’t like me gadgets,** ” the fact made your eyebrows furrow slightly, but you laughed a little with him. His breath tickled your face, and you wrinkled your nose. He needed to brush his teeth, though at this point his unhygienic habits didn’t surprise you. You’d both been busy all day, considering the surgery and the rush to the airship… You’d make sure he did it tomorrow, or whenever you got back. That and shower. The idea that maybe he smelled worse than you thought and you just couldn’t tell almost made you feel sad. 

Silent again, you left your head on his shoulder, your fingers twitching and rubbing circles into your newly stitched leg, trying to massage out the aches. It was going to be a long, painful mission. You really weren’t sure what was going to be going on there. You couldn’t remember if you were told were you were going or not. Junkrat was with you, you reminded yourself. New wasn’t always bad. Change and adventure wasn’t always bad. Just look at your new friend, and possibly even friends. The idea of it made you take a deep breath, blowing it out of your nose. It would be okay.  

You enjoyed the general quiet of the airship. The only sound was the quiet blowing of the heat, the sipping of coffee and the ‘hhwk-tuh’ of Reaper spitting on the concrete. Soon enough, the oddly familiar rumbling noise began to make its way into the background. Junkrat fidgeted with his fingers a little more before standing, leaving you to sit up and wait. Soon enough, the rumbling grew deafening, and Reaper even had the need to move. At this point, the memory of Junkrat in his side car came back to you. 

The bike slowly pulled into the center of the airship, the floor vibrating to the powerful motor and the room booming with the echo of it. In the sidecar was the bag Jamie packed earlier, his weapons, and his harness. Roadhog was no longer in a stained shirt and jeans, but had replaced it for a harness and shoulder padding that you recognized from when you’d first seen him up close. You were almost shocked to see the pig tattooed on his stomach, surprised that you forgot he had it. Junkrat was chittering about already, clearly annoying the other three members of talon, four counting Roadhog. 

“ **Took you long enough, I ain’t even all set, I’ll have ta change in here,** ” came the angry puff, already digging through the sidecar unhappily while Roadhog began to strap down his bike. The silence seemed even more prominent without the guttural rumble of the vehicle, and you could hear your ears ring. 

Jamie was fighting to get his harness on over his half-off shirt, the fabric bunching up at the shoulder to the point of Roadhog having to help him with it. Behind them, Reaper entered, and the door to the airship began to close. All at once, Jamie was freed of his prison, and Reaper gave the command to take off. With a lurch, and Junkrat staggering backwards until he lost balance and fell on his rear, you could tell you were pulling off. 

Finally. It felt like your entire day had moved at the pace of Junkrat’s thought process at the times of preparing, and a snails when you needed to get going. Considering that you no longer had to worry about packing and making it anywhere on time was a huge relief. Now that was all up to the airship and Reaper. You dropped your eyes to your lap, leaning back slightly and fiddling with the strap that crossed like an X over your chest. It was easy enough to sit forward and back, but you were sure it would go taught with turbulence. Reaper was standing, his hand up and gripping what looked to be one of the many handholds for what you assumed would once be soldiers who were in this airship, going to war. 

Where on earth did they even get something like this? Were they given it, did they buy it? Something in your gut told you they probably stole it from the military. You sighed, turning your attention to Widowmaker, who was stoic and holding that case against her lap. The quilt was placed regally over her legs, though for some odd reason she didn’t seem cold in the slightest. Why she had the quilt was beyond you, but it was various shades of white, brown and green. It didn’t seem like something she would want. Despite that ,you noticed she was also wearing something different entirely. The pink and purple you remember her in was replaced with a teal and white. Sombra, too, was wearing something different. Hers appeared far more vivid than Widowmakers. Black and bright purple lined her, making her both less noticeable and more noticeable. The suit itself seemed far warmer than her other one looked, but it was hard to tell under her heavy coat. 

Reaper’s uniform remained unchanged, you noted, and you quietly watched him as he stared forward at the front of the ship. He seemed a bit distracted; maybe this was how he was on missions? The reminder that he’d been the same way the last time you watched him proved otherwise, and you turned your attention to the two you came to know the best. Junkrat had his harness on, his shirt off, and a hand scratching frantically at his head as he went through to double check his bag. Roadhog sat, but didn’t buckle in. He took the seat on a bench, and reached on big arm up to hold onto one of the grips on the ceiling. 

At some point, when Junkrat sat back down next to you, the painkillers began to kick in, and you dosed off to one of his high pitched stories of a past mission from some big CEO. You didn’t end up hearing the end. 

 

You awoke to a bang. Honestly you were surprised your body wasn’t beginning to ignore such noises, but as you opened your eyes you realized it wasn’t one of Junkrat’s bombs. Instead, it seemed, it was one of Roadhog’s securs on his bike coming undone, and whipping one of it’s metal ends into the equally metal floor. The big man was already up to fix it, but you were awake enough to understand that it was dark, and the words “landing soon” were important. 

You squinted your blurry eyes over at Reaper as he was filling in someone over a video com, broadcast up on the wall. You were in view of the face of the other man on the screen, so you were sure you were also in view of him from his end, at least behind Reaper. “ **We’ll be landing behind the property line as instructed. The plan, so far, has not been observed to stray by any known means. It remains the same as the briefing I gave you.** ” The man over the line was big, with paint on his face and a shaved head. He spoke with power, and a certainty in his voice. In a way, you thought, he seemed like he might be the boss of even Reaper. 

“ **Good. This is important, Gabe. Get back to me when you have finished the job.** ” Reaper’s hand lifted and gave a sort of wave, no salute like you might have expected from someone towards a higher up. You must have just over analyzed that part. The screen flicked off, and reaper turned to go up towards where the pilot must be, maybe to oversee it.

Your mind wandered, listening to the quiet noises of everyone around you. You still had your head leaned against Junkrat. It must have fallen there when you’d dozed off. Junkrat’s head was leaned against yours, and his deep breaths came out as slight little snores from the discomfort of the position. All the work and stress over you, all of which felt a bit unnecessary but you appreciated his concern, must have gotten to him. 

To your right, in the other set of wall-lining seats, widowmaker and Sombra were having a conversation about someone named Doomfist. You’d definitely heard of that, but they were talking like they knew him personally. It didn’t really capture your interest as much as the quiet snores that Junkrat was letting out. Growing up you’d never been too into gossip, which is what you could only assume they were going on about. Their tone was a mix of debate and over dramatization, and those two things made your stomach upset to listen to. You weren’t big on conflict, you just wanted a good book and a place to relax with some warm bread if anything. 

You missed your mother’s warm bread. You missed your mother. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you miss me? 
> 
> I missed me. I missed writing this, guys! I would like to give you an update really fast as to my life and an explanation! Also, yes, this is filler, but if I get past this part I will have more inspiration for the next! 
> 
> So I've started college, and I've got friends who want to actually interact with my physical being and go places. That's two shots to the plans to write. Also adulting. That's another, but holy butts did I miss this! Every comment wanting this back made my heart hurt, jeez guys. But it's back! And hopefully we'll be able to add in freakin' Doomfist and Moira at some point! I love you guys, and look out for a more filling chapter soon!


	24. According to the Plan

The landing was about what you would expect for an aircraft that wasn’t meant for patron use. It was harsh, and you figured it was the reason Reaper had made sure everyone was strapped in before landing. It reminded you almost of your mother or father who always made sure everyone was prepared for any unexpected thing during their travels. Your mother would often make you carry an umbrella on a windy, sunny day when there was minimal chance for rain, or your father would tell you to put on layers in case the wind changed and it got cold. 

Reaper was sort of like that, mixed with one of those rollercoaster employees you saw in a few movies, checking to make sure the latch wasn’t loose and that each buckle was in all the way with a rather harsh tug, and a bit of a fight when it came to getting Junkrat to stop being stupid and actually put it on. It was for a good reason, too. 

You could have sworn that the whole carrier bounced once or twice before going entirely still. Despite the loud arguing that Junkrat had struck up about the belt before, his fussing settled into an eerie quiet with the rest of the ship, and you weren’t exactly sure why. Junkrat looked like he was ready to snap in half with nerves, while the rest of the group were slowly adjusting themselves for a quick exit. Sombra’s coat was folded on the floor, Widowmaker had her case open, and you watched her easily pull what looked to be some kind of gun from it before placing it on her quilt. 

The moment the door began to open, quietly and slowly, the lights shuttered off and everyone set in motion. Junkrat struggled out of his seat belt, and Roadhog immediately went to his bike. He flicked the hooks on the straps that held it down and they lashed open with a crack of metal against metal, freeing the vehicle for him to quietly roll out into what looked like snow. The heat was now shut off, and the cold billowed in. 

You turned your eyes over to Sombra, Widowmaker, and Reaper as your fingers awkwardly unbuckled your straps. Sombra was suddenly acting like the cold wasn’t something that had bothered her the moment she’d gotten on the ship in the first place. Her coat was left folded by her seat and within an instant you watch as she took off in a run out of the ship, the sounds of her footsteps nothing more than little thumps in the snow. She vanished into the shadow easier than you would have thought with her bright colors. Widowmaker and Reaper walked out side by side; Reaper’s black clothing making it hard to see him, and Widowmaker’s giving her a good likeness to the snow. Now, at least, you understood the wardrobe changes. 

As they walked out and headed towards what looked to be faint window lights in the distance, your vision was blocked by the fumbling hands of Junkrat trying to grab around your waist. It wasn’t too hard to do, considering you’d been sitting up and already had your buckles off. Without warning, he heaved you up onto his shoulders, and started out after Roadhog, who was moving at a steady pace along what you could only imagine was a dirt road at one point, now layered in ice and snow. 

The cold hit you harder than you would have thought. You shrunk down as much as you could to try and use Junkrat as a heater; he basically was. The amount of warmth your idiot let off was outstanding, you weren’t sure how he did it or if it was healthy. You furrowed your eyebrows a bit in worry, hoping you weren’t purposely ignoring something that could be a problem. You didn’t want it to be a problem, but the only other time you knew someone to do that was if they had a fever. You sighed, watching as your breath came out in a fog. It never got too cold in Ilios until the depth of winter, so this was extremely unpleasant for you. Already your fingers were cold.

Without thinking you gently placed them among the remainder of Junkrat’s hair, making him giggle a little bit. His excitement made you smile, and you were a bit surprised at his easy switches through emotions. You should probably have been used to it by now. It wasn’t a minute into walking that you three broke the treeline. You were surprised that Junkrat was so quiet, but you supposed that if he wasn’t, this so-called stealth that the group was going into right now would be broken. Nobody had spoken since the landing. 

You lifted your head to gaze around you, wondering if you could spot the other around. All you could see was the silhouettes of a few people in the windows of the building and an odd drift of snow that looked black like smoke, moving among the other wisps towards the building. Widowmaker, Sombra, and Reaper were nowhere to be seen, and the wind was enough to immediately begin covering up footsteps. 

“ **Here,** ” came the gruff rumble of Roadhog, barely audible over the wind around you. He stopped pushing his bike, and the three of you were now right up close to the  building, where the windows were dark and what looked to be a power box was set up. Junkrat, without removing you from his shoulders, set to work unzipping the duffle with one hand, already jittery and excited.

As he began to grab a few things from the bag, you watched Roadhog walked up to you both and reach up with one hand to grab you underneath one of your armpits, heaving you off and into the sidecar, on top of the bag. Junkrat glanced up and saw you, causing his face to split into a huge grin. “ **Y/n!** ” The way he said is suggested his mind had failed to recall that you’d been on his shoulders, and you stifled a laugh. His forgetfulness was astounding. “ **You can help me stick the bombs up!** ”   
Confused momentarily, tou looked at the duffle full of explosives, your lips pursing and eyebrows furrowing a bit. So you were going to blow this building up. Well, probably not the full building unless…

You really didn’t want to know the blast radius of these explosives, nevermind. You decided to keep thinking that perhaps this was only to get rid of their power supply and it might only collapse part of the building’ not everyone would be hurt right?

The cold night air snapped with the sound of a single shot, making you wince and immediately reach out to grip onto Junkrat, thinking maybe you’d been caught and he’d been hurt. Junkrat, however, lifted one hand a cold metal one, to gently pat your knuckles. He was okay, you stared at him and his eyes flashed up from his duffle as if wondering what could be wrong with you. Then the sound of shattering glass and the following booms of shotguns rang out of the building, and you realized that instead of being aimed at you, the mission itself had begun.

Another crack made another window shatter, and you couldn’t help but turn to stare into the trees where a small trail of smoke could be seen before it was wisped away by the wind. Somewhere in those trees, Widowmaker sat hunting her prey.

You were torn from your thoughts with two hands on your waist and the ground under your feet. Pain shot up into your leg and hip from the weight put on your foot, and you let out a soft, hushed cry of pain. Junkrat was already bundling a roll of duct tape and a knife into your hands, while he had bombs in his own. “ **Come on, now, sheila, we gotta get goin’,** ” he muttered, his eyes already on the power box. 

You were doing this. You were helping kill people. You breathed slowly, staring at the building. Maybe they were bad? What reason otherwise would Reaper be doing this for? You hadn’t seen him do anything harshly yet other than...well, he was aggressive but  _ he _ wasn’t the one who blew up your neighbor’s house. Junkrat and Roadhog had done that. This wasn’t Junkrat and Roadhog’s mission. This was Reaper’s. 

_ Crack _ . 

Junkrat bustled past you and you followed with unsteady, painful steps. The snow kicked up in front of you, and your only shoe got wet, but all the same, you were on a mission now. You were with Junkrat and Roadhog...on a mission. 

You soon found out that your job was easy enough. You cut tape for Junkrat, who pinned bombs up and scaled the building like a madman. He was setting up different colors and types of bombs in an odd, uneven grid, and you soon realized that one bomb would only reach so much space, while another might reach more or less. This way the entire wall he was placing them on would get decimated. The sad part was that he did it like he’d done it a thousand times before, and you didn’t doubt it. It terrified you. 

Yet, at the same time, you couldn’t fear the goofy blanket-pile loving man, who despite his horrible crimes and morals, protected you, listened to you, and pushed you out of your boundaries on adventures, unlike your parents, who did one and a half of those. 

And sure, the adventures were illegal this time around, but maybe they would get better.

Junkrat’s landing wasn’t graceful in the least, and it definitely didn’t go unnoticed by both you and Roadhog, who was gathering some bombs and tape in his arms and making his way around the corner of the building. You could only assume he was doing what he could to make this go faster; with something like this you weren’t sure if being leisurely was an option. Junkrat did the same, piling some of the bombs high and gently taking the tape from you with a frown. “ **Stay here,** ” he murmured, his amber eyes locking with yours. You frowned and felt the need to reach out and hold onto him, not liking being in such an empty, cold place without him there. So far in your travels with Junkrat he’d hardly left your side, and you didn’t like it when he did. 

Your concern must have shown on your face, because it made him laugh, reaching one hand up to awkwardly pat your cheek. “ **M’just goin’  around the back of the building for ten minutes, shiela. I’ll be right back, huddle down in the side car.** ” He reached over and pulled the duffel out a bit and positioned it so it could block the wind, before helping you in and giving a little wave. After that he vanished and left you to sat on the floor of the side car, trying to figure out why he didn’t just let you go with him. Maybe it was because of the shots going off in the building? The lights in the windows made it easy to spot if you accidentally poked your head, and if Junkrat was trying to move quickly...well, you weren’t the best choice to bring. 

On the bright side, the sidecar was warm, and you were surprised to see that the inside wasn’t solid metal as well. It looked like he’d taped a layer of blankets down by the feet to be comfortable, which was...it was a nice touch. It was the touch you almost expected out of Jamie at this point, but it was still a pleasant thing to be reminded of. Junkrat still had his quirks where he wasn’t being crazy or angry, where he wasn’t some villain burning down houses. Jamie liked blankets and had a massive sweet tooth. He was a genius with scrap metal and clumsy when in a rush. 

As you thought, the sound of uneven steps approached and took more from the duffle, and again with heavier ones until the top of the bag started to droop. At some point the two of them returned and Jamie gave your head a pat, leaving you to sit in the warmth of the car, at least shielded from the wind. Another crack of a bullet shot through the air and you adjusted yourself to watch Jamie clamber back up the side of the building on the piping. 

“ **Ah shit,** ” came the harsh mutter from above you, where Junkrat was trying to reach up to the top of the building. He couldn’t quite reach, it seemed. Slowly, you watched as he clambered back down, his face scrunched in irritation. Obviously this wasn’t a hold up he expected, and over half of the duffle was left.

You frowned and stared at the bag, then up at the piping that Junkrat had previously clambered up as easy as a monkey might a tree. The space Junkrat had to reach up was a little less than a foot, and...it didn’t seem that hard, right?

“ **-Y/n!** ” “ **Jamie-** ” 

The two of you froze, both with a finger up in the air as if each of you had an idea. You felt your chest tighten, assuming your idea was probably not as good at Junkrat’s, so you put your hand down and held it under your arms for warmth, allowing Jamie to go first. 

Junkrat looked ecstatic, with his big amber eyes blown wide and his entire body going into a fit of tremors. “ **Climb up with me,** ” he chirped, his hands flashing out to pull you with him by your shoulders. You stumbled out of the cart, and he twisted around to be by your side, his warmth making your cold skin almost burn. One arm went out as if to show you a horizon, palm open and arching off in the distance. “ **Think about it! You and me, on a cold rooftop, stars above us, fire below!** ”   
You looked up at him in awe, not because of his idea, but because it was your idea too. “ **Yeah,** ” you replied with a little giggle, shoving his arm off of you. If this was an adventure, you couldn’t waste it being here on the ground, after all. You decided that if you’d both come up with the same idea, that you surely could climb the piping and get to the roof...probably. 

You moved closer to the piping, it’s iced outsides making you shutter. This was definitely going to be cold, and probably painful for your leg, but you knew you probably wouldn’t fall to your death. Roadhog was below you, and so was Junkrat, until you got up that was. 

You placed your hands on the first connection on the pipe, a little outward handhold for your already trembling fingers to numbly grab onto. With arms definitely weaker than Junkrats and a deep breath, you struggled to pull yourself up, mostly with your uninjured arm’s strength, using your other more for balance. You felt a hand on your lower back, steady and helping you up for the first couple. One after another, you got higher up, your injured leg screaming with pain and your other trembling from the struggle. It took a lot of core muscles, you realized, to keep yourself from falling backwards, and you weren’t sure how far up you’d gone or how long it took at this point. You told yourself you could do this, probably, and you were going to try. You couldn’t be a total dead weight on this mission, right?

But, you made it, after who knew how long. You, y/n from Ilios, the girl who could barely walk up a hill not too long ago, just dragged herself up onto the side of a building to put bombs on the roof. 

Really, why were you doing this, you could be home with hot tea or something. Then again you weren’t exactly sure what home you meant the more you thought about it. No actual place was pictured in your mind when you thought about it; Ilios or the workshop?

“ **Okay shiela,** ” came the huff below you, and you glanced down to see Junkrat adjusting himself on the piping under your feet. It became clear that he was going to do something like...like toss you or lift you up onto the roof. His arms shifted him up further, making it to the hand hold at your hips. As he adjusted his footing, he placed one hand at your lower back, and then heaved himself up, pulling your shirt so you sat back on his shoulders. You squeaked, feeling your balance falter, but you reached up to grab the top of the piping with both hands, keeping you from falling back. Below you, Junkrat grumbled as he heaved himself up to the top of the piping. As it began to leave your grip, you could feel yourself falling, but you managed to awkwardly scrambled for the top of the building just above your head, your fingers going white.

Now, with Junkrat at the top of the piping, and with you just barely able to put both arms onto the roof, you glanced down to see him adjusting so one arm was hooked around the back of the pipe. His other reached up and grabbed the waistline of your jeans, knuckles white. You looked down at him for a second, feeling your heart squeeze at the look of pride and determination on his face. You swallowed and gave a nod, and with a grunt, he pushed you upward with one arm, and you pulled yourself onto the roof with two of your own, muscles screaming. Snow soaked into your shirt and you gave a squeal of discomfort, but at least you made it. 

You made it up here, and Junkrat was proud of you for doing it. You couldn’t help but put one hand to your mouth and grin, and despite the burning of your arms and legs, you felt fantastic, and not too cold because of all that activity. It was nice.

Truely, to any other person doing that, it might be a regular problem to solve, but to you it was almost a miracle. A new leg replacing an old weak one made all the different, and your other wasn’t as weak as you’d thought, having to carry most of the weight over the years made it resilient. God, you were going to be sore and in pain for the next week. 

“ **Y/n?** ” Oh, dang it, right. You popped your head over the side of the building with a quick push out of the snow, and with your good arm, reached down for Jamie, who’s worried expression immediately went soft when he saw your reappearance.

Whether he thought you were injured or captured or what didn’t really matter, you had to focus more on the weight that suddenly crushed your chest as Junkrat used your arm like a rope, heaving himself up with the new handhold. His fingers slapped down on the edge of the building right next to your face, and as the weight was removed, you wheezed, scrambling to your feet to give him space. Jamie managed to pull himself up with a scramble of leather and metal against brick, his cheeks and shoulders blushed red from the effort. He looked almost flustered, and the color made him look almost younger somehow. Like a kid outside in the snow for too long without wearing a scarf. How his internal temperature managed to stay the way it was in this cold you would never understand. You hoped, at least, he wasn’t cold. You scolded yourself for not thinking about where you were going, and not forcing Junkrat into a hat or something. 

As you gave him space to crawl up, you looked across the top of the building. There were a good amount of vents up here to keep the building running, and what looked to be a single stairwell exit onto the roof for maintenance. Junkrat would have to dig into a lot of snow up here to be able to place anything down. You worried about the cold; you were starting to feel it far too much to feel safe in your minimal clothing.

You turned back to him, watching him lean over the side of the building with a huff. You approached him quietly, not wanting to be in the way for whatever he was up to. A second later you watched as he lurched forward as if about to fall, and your hands immediately went to his belt, pulling him back a little bit so he wouldn’t tilt over the side of the building. Luckily, he used one arm to pull himself up, the handle of the duffel now gripped in one hand. The last of what was in there would get to go up here while Roadhog apparently kept watch. 

You turned your attention back to Junkrat, furrowing your eyebrows slightly at the way his fingers looked a bit blue. As warm as he was, you still didn’t like him digging around in all of this snow. He was going to have to build himself a set of new fingers if he wasn’t careful. “ **Let me dig for you, and you can set them up,** ” you said softly, just loud enough to be heard over the wind. Another crack sounded off back from where the three of you had come from, back from the ship. Inside of the building you could hear the sounds of some gun you weren’t really familiar with at all, but it wasn’t Reaper’s shotguns, and you couldn’t assume it was Widowmaker… 

“ **Alroight,** ” Junkrat huffed, an excited smile crossing his lips. You smiled back, not really able to help yourself. He was just so goofy and his smile, despite the gold tooth and a few chips here and there, was pretty. 

The two of you set to work, kneeling in the snow wherever Junkrat pointed, and you using your sleeves to protect your fingers as you pushed the snow out of the way until you met the solid roof. He would set down a bomb, use a few strips of duct tape to uselessly try to make sure it stayed where it was, before deciding to just press the button and cover it in snow, then the two of you would walk side by side, his warmth keeping you from shivering to death, to the next spot. You weren’t able to watch him work this close up when he’d been scaling the wall, but now that you could, the button being pressed became an obvious step.

“ **What do the buttons do,** ” you murmured through chattering teeth, a clatter somewhere under you being nothing more than background noise at this point. The mission had been going on for at least a half an hour by now. You and Junkrat were placing down the last few bombs around a vent, you crouched down to tape them in and Junkrat pressing himself up close behind you. You weren’t going to complain. You’d been close to him before and he was a welcomed core warmth against the wet sleeves and the bitter cold setting into your toes. 

Jittering at the idea of explaining his work to you again, he pressed the last button on the last bomb before sitting back beside you. “ **Wireless detonation!** ” Despite the wild, happy look on his face, you could tell that the moment he saw your shocked face that it needed a little more explanation. “ **These bombs are hooked up to the fancy thing that Sombra messes with,** ” he said, reaching an arm around your waist and pulling you into a stand with him. “ **Reaper said they were the only bombs I could make for the mission so I didn’t blow them up with it,** ” his voice grew higher in pitch as he went on, breaking into a fit of giggles as he gently ushered you back towards the side of the building.   
“ **So I can’t blow it up until Sombra un-buggers my detonator,** ” he huffed unhappily, his voice growing distant as he left you behind to run back and grab the duffle. You smiled a little, sort of glad that there was a safety net with all of this stuff. At least nobody you _knew_ was getting hurt. Even thinking that made you feel guilty, but it was the truth. Their deaths weren’t really going to affect your life, were they? The smile you’d had fell a little and you hurried towards the edge as best as you could, stumbling a little on your leg.

Junkrat’s squeaking steps hurried up behind you as you leaned over the edge, staring down at where the bike was parked up and Roadhog was waiting.

Were Roadhog was supposed to be waiting. You felt a chill run down your spine and your eyes searched the empty snow.

“ **Jamie?** ” Immediately you turned to grab at his arm, making his excitement visibly fade off into concern. As he began to form the word ‘what’ the sound of a chain cracking against solid wood caught your ear, and with what little effort your weak arm could muster, you shook Junkrat helplessly. “ **The woods?** ” It was all you could say, and it was barely a whisper above the wind. Junkrat didn’t seem all to happy about it, his eyes locked on the tree line. 

“ **Shit, okay, stay here,** ” he muttered lowly, making you tense a bit. Jamie being serious was probably one of the more scary things about him. It was something you didn’t like to see too often, especially when it bordered on his anger. You took a deep breath and nodded just as his arm left you and you watched his body drop off of the edge of the building. 

It was a long way down, but he landed with a hard huff and a roll, bumping into the sidecar of the bike with a hard ‘clunk’. Another crack of a bullet was heard, and you winced as a chunk was taken out of a tree just ahead of you. Widowmaker was shooting at something that Roadhog was fighting. Was it any authorities? The security in this place? Overwatch? You swallowed and quickly crouched down to try and stay out of sight from what was down there. Shrapnel scattered the dead branches with a loud bang.

Your eyes fell to Junkrat again, watching through the slight flurry that was picking up as he fumbled for something on the seat of the bike. You could hear his voice speaking into it, but you couldn’t really hear what he was saying. You turned your attention back to the trees, another clatter of a chain and what almost sounded like a boulder hitting a tree or something. God, you hoped Roadhog was going to be okay. Another crack sounded and you winced as the bullet flew close enough to send part of a tree off in a spray of wood. 

This wasn’t part of the mission that was planned for, and that much was clear. If it was, Junkrat would have warned you, right? He wouldn’t be so serious? You let out a shuttered breath, trying to focus on calming down and keeping yourself warm as you sat down near the edge of the building. Junkrat was arming himself, only sparing you a glance to reassure himself you were still on the roof, perhaps. You were safe up here. Cold, but safe. 

Junkrat fired a single bomb off into the woods, and a bang of it exploding made you wince. This wasn’t good. What if they got hurt? Roadhog could be hurt, and then Junkrat could be walking into a trap. You pursed your lips together as another crack went through the brittle branches. Widowmaker was going to hit one of them or something. How could she tell who she was aiming at? You had to go help them, maybe find Reaper and Sombra and finish the mission so you could all get out of here.   
You had no idea where they were at. The sounds of gunfire in the building underneath you was gone, and you were too far from the other edge of the building to see out front in hopes that they were on their way to Jamie and Roadhog’s aid or to the ship so you could call out and get them back safely, if it wasn’t already too late. 

You had to at least try to see if they were back at the ship. If they weren’t you could find Widowmaker in the trees and she could spot them in the building, or contact them, or tell you what was going on. But all of that would mean leaving Junkrat. 

You tensed and put your hands on the edge of the building, bracing yourself for the drop down. Whatever you had to do, you had to get down from up here to do it. 

Or get into the building. Or both? Going into the building would still leave Junkrat…

You closed your eyes and jumped off.


	25. Split Lip

The snow hit you like a pile of blankets, soft up until a point, which is when it stopped taking a bit of your fall. Your feet packed it down with your landing, and the rest of your momentum went through your bones. Your new leg ached and you had to physically force yourself not to groan out in pain. It was sharp enough for you to feel like your stitches had all snapped out of place the moment you hit the ground, and it sent a deep bone pain through your hips, making you suddenly grateful for the numbing snow that soaked your pants. 

You slowly stood, your eyebrows furrowed in concentration on trying to get moving again and work your leg into a stand without the help of anything around you. It was hard, but as you shifted slightly as if to lift into a kneel, the leg obeyed, and it helped in pushing yourself out of the foot trodden snow drift, and finally into a stand. Tonight seemed to be full of trials for you; hopefully this mission was a one plan thing and you didn’t have to go with part two any time soon. You wouldn’t be able to get any of your joints to move tomorrow and you knew it. Already they felt like noodles. 

On your feet, you moved towards the bike, hearing a static grow louder as you approached the sidecar. Inside lay the thing that Junkrat had been speaking into, and from it you could hear a few different voices. One was french, Widowmaker’s voice calmly speaking through, giving updates on something. 

“ **I have two of them in my sights,** ” she spoke, and you stole a glance at the treeline ahead of you where you knew Junkrat and Roadhog were in some kind of fight amongst the trees.

A voice answered Widowmaker, and you immediate found it to be that of Reaper’s, extremely distinguishable and only a little hard to understand; you were used to hearing Roadhog’s garbled words so listening to Reaper over a radio wasn’t too hard at this point. “ **Can you identify them? Where are Fawkes and Rutledge?** ” 

You awkwardly sat yourself into the sidecar, holding the radio to try and get a sense of what was happening so you might be able to make a better decision. Should you say something? 

The hard crack of another gunshot rustled the leaves and you lifted your head to stare into the forest, the hair rising on the back of your neck as you heard an angry shouting, very clearly from Junkrat. A symphony of bombs went off through the trees and the cracking of a branch completely breaking off of a tree made panic shoot through you. Another shot cracked off and second later it was silent again for all but the distant firing of what must have been a pulse gun of some kind, considering it’s silence compared to the metal explosives used otherwise. 

The radio crackled back on to the sound of heavy breathing and a harsh growl; immediately you knew it was Roadhog, probably using his radio which he was smart enough to keep with him. Behind the harsh puffs of breath you could hear the higher pitched muttering of Junkrat. You really hoped the two were okay, but it seemed like they weren’t doing so well. “ **Song and-** ” the radio cut out into static before finding it’s way back in. The radio let out a huge bang of what was probably Roadhog’s gun the same time you heard it echo out over the trees. “ **Tracer, Lu-** ” 

More static made your chest tight, and you had the horrible urge to go staggering into the trees, but the last time you’d been in danger in a battle wasn’t pleasant. The flashing images of Junkrat’s absolute madness made your veins run cold. You didn’t want to put him through that, you figure that you being in the middle of a mess would only distract Jamie more and cause him a horrible amount of stress. 

“ **I’m on my way,** ” continued the conversation with the sound of who you recognized to be Sombra signing in with a clear tone, “ **My job is complete. Gabe?** ” The name Gabe wasn’t familiar to you, and you quietly huddled into the seat to try and listen further, though not for the answer to the name, rather for any information on if Roadhog and Jamie were okay still. 

You heard another few bombs go off, a now steady battle appearing to go on with the rattling of a few guns constantly chipping at the trees. A few times as you glanced over you could see a blue flash or a green glow.

“ **Finished. Widowmaker?** ” 

To your surprise the answer for Gabe was Reaper, though your mind was too busy spinning trying to understand what was happening in the forest to really care. You supposed it fit, but that was all you could think at the moment. You were entirely too glad when you heard another update from it, though it seemed like it was less of an update, and more of a passive warning. 

The radio crackled to life, but Roadhog said nothing, only his heavy breathing indicated he was there. The rest of it was all Jamie, and his rapid, high pitched wheezes, voice cracking. It almost broke your heart out much of a struggle he was in. 

“ **Lucio, mate, come on!** ” That wasn’t a name you were familiar with, but you heard this Lucio answer back, which was surprising that they were actually conversing.

“ **Jamie you know I don’t like hurtin’ you like this, but we’ve gotta try and stop you from blowing the whole place up!** ” The voice was faint over the radio, but Junkrat’s harsh whine was very clear, and you had another thought run through your head. The bullets had stopped, even Widowmaker’s, and they seemed to be talking. If you could just, somehow, get to them while it was calm, you could convince them to make a run for it. Everyone else was finish with their mission jobs, all they had to do was get on the bike and go, right? You stared at the seat where Roadhog normally sat.

Backtracking all the way here would be a horrible decision, it would be far easier if you could somehow drive this thing but you honestly didn’t even know where to start when it came to a bike without a motor, let alone this. This whole mission could be done far faster if you could get to them, detonate the bombs and drive off without worrying about leaving the bike so close to the building. 

“ **Don’t move, Roadhog,** ” came a sharp snap from a high pitched voice, and you could hear the angry snarl that was muffled under Roadhog’s mask. The radio kept connected, keeping everyone in the mission group updated. 

“ **Winston told us to get in and stop them, we don’t even know where the rest of Talon is right now!** ” That sounded british, but you couldn’t be sure, it was further away than the others were.

“ **Well they can't blow it up if we take these two,** ” snapped that same higher pitched voice, one you didn’t know. Her plan made your stomach knot, and you had a feeling you might be sick. If they took Roadhog and Junkrat…

You immediately dragged yourself to your feet, hooking the back of the radio on the collar of your coat. You had to do  _ something _ to try and help them or you would never forgive yourself. As you hurried around to the other side of the bike, the voices continued with Jamie’s frantic, and suddenly angry voice. 

“ **If you try and take me roight now I won’t hesitate to bite off ya’ fingers, mate, don’t test me,** ” he spat, “ **Get ya hands off of me, you filthy buggers! Mako, help m-** ” the silence came with static, and you could feel your heart in your throat. A crack sounded through the woods and another clink of a chain, you could only assume Roadhog took his hand off of the radio button to be able to help Junkrat. You had to do something, they were outnumbered, and they were hurt, probably. 

Hands shaking, you pushed the kickstand up out of the snow and tried with all of your effort to push the bike back through it’s previous tracks. Roadhog made it look so damn easy to push this thing but the extra metal and armor on it must make it weigh twice as much. 

“ **What are you doing?** ” The sound of Sombra tore a scream from you, her hand suddenly on your shoulder. You whipped around, heart roaring in your ears at her sudden appearance. 

How on earth did she even get there? She is always so quiet when she needs to be, and why did she care what you were doing? She should go and help Junkrat and Roadhog like she said she would. The thought that she was wasting time here made a snarl curl at your lip. “ **Why do you care? Go help Jamie,** ” you snap, the adrenaline that was making its way through you making you care far too little about being kind. You turned to push the bike again, inching it back through the snow. 

This was absolutely frustrating. You were stuck here with the bike you couldn’t drive and you couldn’t push into safety. Junkrat and Roadhog were stranded in the forest, and Sombra wasn’t going to help them. You could be going to help them if it wasn’t for the fact that getting out after getting there would be the loss of all of you. There was no way you could get to the bike while it was here and still finish the mission without killing the three taking them hostage and you didn’t like death. You didn’t want to hurt anyone.

As your mind raced, you’d managed the drag the bike backwards around five feet, breathing hard and shaking uncontrollably. Sombra’s hands wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you back, stronger than you though, or perhaps you were drained entirely from the events. 

You turned at her, and despite your exhaustion, you were slightly surprised to see an impressed look on her face. “ **Let me get the bike,** ” she said, removing one arm from you. Her hand lifted to illuminate a purple screen, and you blinked at the sudden brightness. She tapped through images and icons, and all at once you watched as the bombs all along the wall blinked purple. The reminder that Junkrat had to wait for Sombra’s okay flashed in the back of your head as a distant memory at this point. It wasn’t important right now, what was important was that Sombra was letting you go help Jamie and that was what you were going to do. 

You turned to the woods and took off, not glancing back to see if Sombra had decided to push or drive the bike. As you dragged your feet through the snow as quickly as you could manage, the radio came to life once more and you heard Sombra’s voice. “ **Junkrat, your little project is on her way.** ” 

Part of you wanted to ask what she meant by project, but you had your hands full trying to pull yourself through a bunch of brambles that had caught onto your coat. All you could do was listen to the chaos over the radio that came after Sombra’s comment. 

Reaper was the first to answer, “ **The girl is going in there? She’s not armed, Sombra,** ” he snapped, and you could hear him curse as he let go of the radio button. 

“ **No! Damn it, that-** ” Junkrat’s voice was covered over by Roadhog, who started to laugh a bit, before the radio crackled off on their end. 

It didn’t take long for you to get close enough to see a bit of light coming off of what looked to be something pink in the distance. Junkrat and Roadhog had gone further into the forest than you’d expected, it was no wonder it was hard for Widowmaker to hit anything.

“ **-dhog, the button! Ah, fuck. Y/n turn the bloody hell around,** ” the radio crackled again and you frowned, the fear you heard in Junkrat’s voice making you nervous, but you were already getting closer. You had to be quiet, you decided, and as Widowmaker was announcing she would avoid firing, you fumbled up to find the volume on your radio. It didn’t take long for you to turn it entirely off. 

You pushed through the underbrush, trying to be as quiet as you possibly could as you approached the battle that had come to a strange stand still. A huge pink machine was now clearly visible to you, and you could see the outline of who you now recognized as Lena, from the glowing blue contraption she wore on her chest. Next to Lena was someone you didn’t recognize, bouncing to the faint sounds of music and glowing yellow from a few bands around whatever he was wearing. It looked expensive.

You were careful with your steps, looking down at where you put them to avoid breaking branches. It took a lot longer than you’d hoped to get close enough to hear what was being said at regular speaking volume. 

“ **Who’s on their way,** ” demanded the girl from inside of her pink machine. You could see that she was close to Roadhog, two large guns pointed at his chest. Your heart squeezed, and you felt a fear for your big friends life as if it hung in your own hands. 

Junkrat was nearby, jittery and hiding behind Roadhog with a face as pale as snow itself. He looked like he was going to be sick. “ **Nobody,** ” Junkrat snapped, and you could hear the sudden ferocity in his voice that you knew came from being protective. He’d only ever sounded like that when he was trying to help you. He sounded like he was part animal.

Roadhog just laughed at the angry look that the pink machine girl must have given him. “ **The Mouse,** ” the big man rumbled, giving a large wheeze. You put a hand on a large branch that looked like it had been the one you heard crack. It had a huge, splintered edge to it about a foot up. You were in the shadows, in a position where you could see everyone that was in a small clearing the shape of a teardrop. It was barely big enough for them all to fit in it, and looked battle-made. Burnt bushes and melted snow made it clear that Junkrat’s explosives during the battle had gouged through the forest to make this space. 

“ **Who’s the Mouse,** ” asked the boy with the glowing gear, his hair bobbing around his head as he bounced on his toes to the music you could now hear. It made you feel a little better about the situation, and you weren’t sure if it was just the numbness of the snow against your knees, but the pain of your torn stitches wasn’t as noticeable as it was before.

The pink girl sneered so loudly you could hear the texture of her spit between her teeth from here. “ **It doesn’t matter. Reaper said she’s unarmed. What’s she going to do?** ” 

There was silence, and the three, those of which you now knew were Overwatch, stood in silence, staring between one another, Jamie and Roadhog, and the trees around them. If you were going to do anything about Jamie and Roadhog being held hostage, now was the time.

You awkwardly shuffled around the tree branch, managing to avoid making it rattle at all as you stepped out into the glow of the machines that illuminated the clearing. You were behind the Overwatch members, and you weren’t sure what you were going to do at all to help, but...well, one of them was pointed at Roadhog; you didn’t like that. The thought of Roadhog getting far more injured than he already was made you frown. You didn’t like that at all. 

You knew that Junkrat had seen you the moment you heard him let out a whimper, and the shuffling of underbrush made you think that maybe he tried to lunge out for you. Sadly, your quiet approach was broken, and Lena and the Pink girl immediately turned; the mech was no longer pointed at Roadhog, and you realized that with a skip of your heart. 

“ **Y/n is the Mouse?** ” Lena was the first one to react, her eyes staring wide at you, you were sure you probably looked awful. You could still feel the numbness in your arms and legs; your good fingers and toes ached and you very clearly had a new leg. Lena looked absolutely shocked. 

“ **Are you serious?** ” The pink girl glared at you from her mech and you nervously stared back. “ **She’s nothing more than some kidnapped girl. We should take her with us and bring her back to her ho-** ”

“ **Do** **_not_ ** **touch her,** ” Junkrat snarled, and your eyes flashed to see Roadhog holding Jamie back by the tire on his harness. Junkrat was writhing, trying to free himself of the harness so he could get to you, but Roadhog wasn’t letting him free. He probably didn’t want him to get shot. 

The pink girl huffed and glared at Jamie, “ **Seriously? I know you’re nuts, Jamie, but you kidnapped a girl? Is this the same one from the Ilios ruins, Lena?** ” She turned to look at Lena, who nodded, looking unhappy and worried for the situation going on. 

This wasn’t helping, and you knew it. All of this banter was not going well and you didn’t like that they were threatening to take you from Jamie again, especially while you weren’t next to him. There were three people between you and Junkrat and it was going to be entirely impossible to get to him if they all had a hold on you before he could so much as writh free of Roadhog. 

Before you could make a move to try and hurry around to Junkrat’s side, Lena gave a solumn nod and cast a worried glance over at where Jamie was still leashed by his own harness. “ **We’re not going to hurt her,** ” she said calmly, holding a hand up to Jamie as to calm a stray dog or a wild animal. She turned back to you, her eyes behind her goggles very clearly conflicted at this point. You weren’t really sure what was going on in her head but you knew that she wasn’t going to leave you be, that much was for sure. Overwatch just didn’t leave behind a ‘kidnapped girl’ with her ‘kidnapper’. 

“ **Hana hold Roadhog. Lucio, grab-** ” adrenaline began to pump through you and your head spun. No, they were not going to take you away from Jamie. Lucio, the one in green began moving towards you and you took a few unsteady steps back. Junkrat was shouting angrily at them, but the blood was roaring through your ears and you couldn’t understand anything except the hand reaching out for you. You held your bad arm close to your side, and for an instant you knew how Junkrat felt on that airship all that time ago. Cornered and without many options. 

You thought of the only thing you could do, which was reaching up and turning the radio on that was at your collar. It came to life with static, and you pressed the button, hearing your own rapid breathing loud and clear through the one on Roadhog’s harness. Were you breathing that hard? You swallowed and spoke, Lucio’s hand inches from your shoulder, and frozen there in a curious fear at what you were doing, or maybe he was worried that you were calling for help? What would calling for Reaper or Widow do anyway? Instead, in a voice that you felt was far too shaky to be understood, you asked: “ **Is the bike moved?”**

You winced and struggled backwards the moment Lucio’s fingers touched you, and with luck, you managed to tear your coat out of his hands. You fell, landing in the snow with a thud. Pain rocketed up your spine as your hips jolted and your leg landed oddly in front of you, the twist of its joint making your bones ache. Hana was aimed at Roadhog again, but you could see her turned slightly to try and see what was going on. She could clearly hear your voice from Roadhog’s radio, but the Mech was in her way. 

As the silence sat like ice in your veins, you met eyes with Lena, who seemed like she felt sad that you weren’t cooperating, maybe she was upset that you were working together with Jamie to do this mission? Overwatch obviously wasn’t happy with what you were doing here but you weren’t about to turn your back on Junkrat. You didn’t do it the first time and you weren’t going to do it now. 

Static burst into the radio and the clear voice of Sombra came through. “ **All clear.** ” All clear. Roadhog’s bike was out of the way, the bombs were unbugged, this was the last part of the mission, the last thing you all had to do before you could make a run for the ship. 

Your eyes shot towards where Lucio was knelt down, lips pursed unhappily to have to take you, perhaps sad for you or sad for Jamie, but you weren’t sure. Part of your mind might have thought he wasn’t so bad if he wasn’t trying to force you away from Junkrat. And that, at this point, was the worst thing you could think of to happen. You were so close to finishing this mission and going home. The stress that came out of you being in any possible danger was having an upsetting effect on Jamie and you just wanted to get out of this cold and feel your fingers again.

From the corner of your eye, as you began to scramble up to a kneeling position, you watched as, with a click, Junkrat sprung free from the tire attached to his harness. In an instant, you knew you had to get to him or he was going to tear Lena apart, already grappling for her. Lucio was in your way. 

You winced as his hand touched your shoulder again, gripping your coat to try and keep you from scrambling away again. The sudden tightness of being stuck, caught in the hands of some stranger, made your panic. Without thinking about it, you did the first thing that came to your mind. 

You punched him in the face. Hard. 

At least as hard as your bad hand could manage, which wasn’t very, but it was enough to get him to let go and fall backwards, off balance, and hold his lip. His hand left your sleeve and you immediately did your best to pull yourself back to your feet, your mind immediately going to the first thing you needed to be safe again. Being anywhere near Lucio was not safe.  Your knuckles throbbed dully behind the dead nerves of your elbow and the numbness of your hand as you used it to push yourself to your feet. Your eyes lifted to try and find Jamie, feeling anxiety race through you as you had to turn your back on Lucio to find him. You saw him, grappling with Lena, but his eyes flickered to you, a proud smile was on his face.  

At this point you were close enough to him to start smelling his singed skin again, which was oddly comforting considering what you’d went through to get here. You reached out for him, and his arm reached out to meet you, his other shoving Lena to the ground with ease. You gripped your fingers around his arm, feeling the grime of battle greasy against your fingers, but you held on, and he pulled you back to him, that arm reaching around your waist to make sure you were safe and close. As you slowly fell out of your panic, your heart slowing down and your mind registering that you probably just hurt Lucio pretty badly. Lena was just in front of you, her face filled with terror. 

In Jamie’s other hand was a detonator. 

Roadhog stood up despite the guns trained on him. 

“ **Jamie don’t,** ” Hana shouted from her machine, turning to stare at the Rat, while Lucio stood, his bottom lip split. 

Junkrat’s grip on you tightened, and he clicked the button. 

The sound was as deafening as the explosion in the airship you and Junkrat had escaped out of. Those little bombs you’d helped him set up took out the building like it was made of paper. You could feel the unbearable heat from here, and the look on Lena’s face was almost heartbreaking. 

Jamie didn’t let you linger on the loss on Overwatch’s face for too long. Instead he pulled you with him as he turned, lifting you up into his arms bridal style and pushing through the undergrowth of the forest. You stared through the trees at the burning wreckage of what was once a building filled with people. The deafening crumble of the building’s structure crashing to the ground sounded horrible, and you felt the impact they made in your chest.

 Jamie’s fingers reached up quietly to push the button on the radio that hung from your coat collar. You heard him speak like you were somewhere else for a moment before really processing his words. Behind him, Roadhog’s Radio repeated it, and you watched him fire backwards into the forest, keeping Overwatch from following. “ **So where’s the bike,** ” he said into the speaker, waiting only a second for them to answer. 

“ **Sombra brought it to the ship. You’ll have to walk.** ” Reaper’s reply was blunt, but he wasn’t done speaking. “ **Are you injured?** ” 

“ **Me and Roadie are. Y/n’s hand is in bad shape.** ” Junkrat answered, sounding a little upset as he stared down at you. You caught his eye and frowned, knowing you probably worried him a little bit too much. He looked just as tired as you felt. You stared down at your hand, your eyebrows furrowing as you looked at your numb fingers and the new swelling the joints had. 

You punched someone for the first time today. You hit them in the face. Did he really deserve that? Surely you could have gotten out of the same situation a different way, right? 

You pulled your hand closer to your chest and found comfort in the tightening of Junkrat’s hold on you. It was nice to know he was proud of you, at least, for helping him and Roadhog get out of there. You did that. You helped them be safe, otherwise they might have been captured by Overwatch and you wouldn’t have seen them for a long time. 

You sighed and rested your head against his chest, listening to his heavy heartbeat as you hurried you through the open area past the now decimated building. Barely anything was left, and what was smoldered brightly.

Ahead of you, you could see Sombra and Widowmaker standing at attention in front of the open, bright light of the airship, the door open and waiting for the three of you. Roadhog’s bike was sitting inside like it had been before, and Reaper was nervously pacing in front of the doorway. 

The moment Widowmaker caught sight of you, she must have announced it, and immediately she and Reaper moved towards you. Widowmaker rushed to Junkrat’s side and you heard her vaguely telling him to bring you inside where it was warm; there was a medic waiting back at base for the three of them. 

Reaper was demanding a summary of what happened from anyone, but as far as you could tell nobody answered. 

The inside heat of the ship was smoldering in comparison to the outside. For the first time in a while you realized you were probably freezing slowly while you were going about the mission. Next time you would be sure to over prepare. 

You were set carefully in the chair you were in before, and you watched Jamie awkwardly buckle you in. You could see his face, and you weren’t really sure why he looked so concerned. Behind him, Roadhog was strapping his bike in. As quickly as you had landed, Reaper checked everyone’s buckles, the doors hummed closed, and you took off. 

You remember feeling Jamie holding your wounded hand across your body to look at it, his fingers calloused and grimy against yours, before you found yourself in an uneasy sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Remember to comment how it's going for you! Is it to slow? Going too fast? Not descriptive enough for you, or too descriptive and boring? Let me know!
> 
> ANNOUNCEMENT AS OF 1/6/18  
> I've thought about this work and I've decided to attempt to do revising on it again. I feel it is missing a lot of key qualities to a good story and I think everyone will like it and find it more involving if I go through and add in good story elements. Because I know people still want to read it, and I know that it will be weird to read while it's being adjusted, I'm going to be posting another version of this story once it's entirely revised. I will be linking it once I'm finished, and hopefully it'll be a better read then! ♥ thank you to everyone who has given me support, criticisms, and advice!


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